Hobbit, Lord of the Rings 1. Chapter 1

_**Back Again 2: Narîth**_

_Twenty-seven years ago, Frodo and Bilbo fled the Shire and took up residence in Erebor. There, Bilbo became the King's Consort and Frodo was given a prince's status and a warrior's education to fulfill his destiny. It is time. Bagginshield-established, Frodolas_

Chapter 1

_Doom is near at hand_,

_For Isildur's Bane shall waken,_

_And the Halfling forth shall stand._

_To the Mountain of Fire taken, and cast within._

_Man once been, born again_.

The large Dwarf circled the smaller, axes clutched in his hands. The smaller held a sword in his hand. The larger attacked with a shout, hefting one ax into the air. The smaller dove to the right, blade raised to block the second ax and pushed it away, slamming his foot into the larger's side. The lager grabbed his foot and twisted, flinging him onto his back before bringing his ax down on the smaller. The smaller rolled to the left and jumped to his feet, seizing the larger's large arm around both of his and ramming the hilt of his blade into the larger's side.

"_Oof_," the larger said. He paused, feeling the cool metal against his neck. "All right, yer done for now, yeh twerp." The blade was lowered and sheathed.

The larger removed his helm. The Dwarf's beard was a lustrous black. His bald head held permanent decorations to commemorate battles he had come out alive from. He picked up his axes and turned to the smaller.

He had removed his helm as well. The smaller was beardless, not even a stubble could be seen on his chin. The hairs he did have were on his head, home to an array of long unruly curls braided out of his eyes and to reveal the elfish point of his ears, decorated in gold rings and mithril cuffs at the point.

Jewels given to a prince of the realm.

He grinned at the other. "Getting too old, Dwalin?"

"That's _Mister_ Dwalin to yeh, Halfling," Dwalin snarled.

The Halfling snorted. "And what would my uncle say if he heard you address me so?"

"Which one?"

"Either one?"

"Well," Dwalin stroked his beard. "Thorin could give me a wallop if he wanted. Bilbo, though, he could withhold those biscuits of his. I'd rather take on Thorin. Thank yeh."

The prince laughed. Dwalin clapped his shoulder. "You best go get ready for the party, Frodo. Unless you wish to bring down the wrath of _both_ your uncles."

"I'd never be so cruel, _Mister Dwalin_." He ducked before the hand met the back of his head, running off.

"Yeh better run, yeh scamp!"

Frodo slowed to a walk once he reached the top of the steps. Two guards opened the doors to the palace for him. He nodded his thanks, entering another hallway. Save for the occasional guard or servant, the hall was empty with many doors on either side.

A servant came out of his room and bowed. "Good afternoon, Lord Frodo," she said, ducking out before Frodo could thank her. He entered, removing his armor and letting it fall free until he stood in just leather breeches and his uncle's old mithril shirt.

He went to wash his hands and wipe the sweat from his neck and brow before finding lunch waiting for him. Chicken in basil cream, steamed vegetables seasoned with garlic, and two rolls of bread with a goblet of wine.

He ate in blissful silence. Nothing but him and the food in front of him.

Until his door opened and a little dwarf ran in. His gold locks were braided along the sides of his face and his eyes were a bright hazel.

"Frodo!"

"Bíli, what are you…You didn't run from Ori again, did you?"

The little one grinned sheepishly. Frodo set his fork down. "Bíli, we talked about this: I know lessons are boring. I know you don't like them. But you _have _to go to them. Ori said he'd talk to your Adad next time ran off and I don't think—"

"BÍLI!"

Frodo winced and Bíli gasped, grabbing Frodo's hand. "I'll go to my lessons! I'll read my books! I'll eat green food! I'll be nice to the Elves when they come! Just hide me before—"

"Before what?"

Frodo sighed. "Good afternoon, Fili."

Bíli turned around, wringing his hands. "'Lo, Adad. I'll just…be going now."

Fili held a hand up and Bíli stilled. "You will apologize to Master Ori and clean up the mess you made in the library. Furthermore, beginning tomorrow, you are grounded. For a week."

Bíli bowed his head. "Yes, Sir," he said, leaving the room. Fili sighed, running his hand through his hair, the same shade as his son's.

"He wasn't bothering you, was he, Frodo?"

"Please, I'm eating lunch. So long as I'm not torn away from it, I'm good. Nice of you to still let him go to the feast."

"Oh, I wouldn't. Nor would Dwarka. However, Thorin's insistent that the whole family be there. Bíli has to attend. Thorin would let the boy get away with nigh everything if given the chance! He's a good lad but…"

"Too much like you?" Frodo said, taking a drink from his wine. Fili laughed.

"Aye. Way too much like me. How are you anyway? Excited?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's your birthday as much as it is Bilbo's. And you're of age now! You _cannot_ tell me you're not excited."

Frodo blinked. "It's…_oh_." He grinned. "I never realized! Time went by a bit fast. I mean, I _remembered_, of course, but it didn't really register."

"You actually trained today. The _one _bloody _day_ you don't _have _to train and you went and trained anyway. Frodo, you are maddening sometimes," Fili said, slumping in the chair across from him. "Who'd you train with today? Nori? Kili? Gimli?"

"Dwalin." Fili hissed in a breath and winced. Frodo grinned. "I beat him."

"Oh. Now _that_ is not fair. You know what: I think he threw the battle. He let you win."

"He did not."

"It's Dwalin, Frodo. I know my father-in-law. He does _not_ go easy on anyone and he doesn't lose. He let you win. I bet it's because it's your birthday."

"Don't be an Orc, Fili," Frodo said, glaring at him and stabbing the broccoli with his fork. "I may prove you wrong yet."

Fili snorted and stood. "Happy birthday, Frodo." he clapped his shoulder and left. Frodo shook his head, returning his attention to his lunch.

#

He pulled a burgundy tunic over his head before sweeping his hair out from underneath it, loose and unbraided. His beads and jewels rested on the table waiting for him. Frodo tucked the shirt into his breeches. He grabbed a comb and untangled the thick tangle of black hair on his feet.

He glanced up when the door opened and grinned. "Hello, Uncle."

"When was the last time you cut your hair?" Bilbo asked, crossing his arms and eyeing the long locks falling down Frodo's back just past his shoulders. When they had come to Erebor, Bilbo still held a sense of having not aged at all. He still looked so and many say it was the ring's influence and its being still so near to its bearer. He had gained a little more paunch as expected of a Hobbit in a high position and his hair was slowly turning silver.

Still, no one who didn't know Bilbo would have guessed he was almost ninety years old.

"Hey, no," Frodo said, holding a finger up and frowning. "We agreed you'd not touch them unless I really needed it. That was two weeks ago."

Bilbo sighed. While he wore braids in his hair and clasps befitting the King's Consort, he had kept his hair shorter than most, letting it be no longer than his shoulders. To Bilbo, Frodo's insistence to grow his own hair out was an act of tweenage rebellion fully supported by the rest of his family.

To Bilbo's utter chagrin.

He chuckled. "All right. May I at least put it together for you or were you leaving the task to Kili again?"

"Kili, I believe, has his own hair to worry about," Frodo said, holding out a different comb to Bilbo. He took it and sat behind Frodo, brushing out the tangles. "I think Aunt Dis or Uncle Thorin has him at the moment. If not Bíli." Frodo grinned. "That'd be funny. Seeing him walk in with messy braids."

Bilbo chuckled. "Funny, but far from befitting given the day. Speaking of…" He cut himself off, clearing his throat. Frodo turned around.

"What is it?"

"The Elves will be here."

"That's usually not a problem. What? You want me to help keep the family in line?"

"Well, there's that, but…Legolas has been invited as well—I _know_ you are still angry, Frodo, but I see no reason for him not to have been invited."

Frodo turned back around.

"You can't keep avoiding him, my lad."

"Watch me," Frodo challenged.

The brushing stopped. "You _will_ act like an adult tonight," Bilbo warned. "You _are_ an adult and—"

"I _won't_ embarrass the family," he promised, sighing. "But _why _did you invite him after all this time? How did you convince Thorin to agree to that when you know that…" Frodo bit his lip. He didn't want to think about it.

…_Annoying little brother…a spoiled brat…a nuisance on the best days…_

He dug his nails into his palms, trying to will the memory away. Bilbo weaved the locks into place. "It's been a long time, Frodo. Don't you think it's been long enough? Maybe you can make things right with him tonight."

"No."

"Why not? Legolas adored you."

"No. He didn't."

"How do you know he wasn't just having a bad day?" Bilbo countered. "He has expressed his regret and sent several apologies since! How long are you going to punish him?"

The last braid fell and Frodo stood, grabbing his jewelry and putting them on with shaking hands. "I'm not punishing him. He doesn't _have _to apologize for anything. I'm only doing what he asked of me."

"What? Never speak to him or write? Avoid him when he comes to Erebor?"

"I'll see you downstairs, Bilbo."

He grabbed his doublet, stringing his arms through the holes and leaving the room, earrings hitting his neck as he strode down the hall. Frodo wondered if there was time to train a little bit before the feast. The trumpet calls echoing off the walls informed him, "No. Get your butt to the great hall."He sighed and changed directions.

"Frodo!" Bíli called, rushing to him and grabbing his arm. Frodo smiled, petting his little cousin's head.

"Everything all right?" Kili asked.

Frodo shook his head. "Legolas." Kili's eyes flashed. He squeezed Frodo's shoulder and gave him a gentle head butt.

"Stay close to me, then." Frodo smiled gratefully at Kili and would have responded, but the doors opened for him and his cousins. He forced a grin onto his face and entered.

Chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2

Frodo clasped hands with Lady Nes, leading her through the dance and around the others on the dance floor. Flutes, violins, and drums echoed off the stone walls. They switched partners at the end of the song—her to Kili and he to Thorin Stonehelm, heir to Dain Ironfoot of Ered Engrin.

Thorin's auburn locks were impressively braided out of his face and his beard shined in the candle light, matching the grey of his eyes and his smile was bright.

"I have yet to offer my salutations and wishes, Cousin."

"Please, I think I've gotten enough!" Frodo said with a grin.

"No such thing as too much," Thorin retaliated. "Happy Birthday, Frodo."

"Thank you."

The music ended with the announcement of dinner. Frodo sat beside Kili, avoiding glances from a particular Elf seated on the left side table. He didn't know how intently Legolas had kept his eyes on him, but he pretended he did not notice.

Blood rushing through his ears blocked out Thorin's speech. He could see his uncle's lips move and the gestures he made with his hand. And he could see him grinning at Bilbo, and the tint to Bilbo's cheeks to whatever it was Thorin said. Thorin turned to him, saying a few things about…

Pride, honor, and something possibly quite embarrassing.

He wished Legolas would stop staring at him. It was distracting, so he glanced at his plate instead of making a fool of himself. Kili nudged him when Thorin sat down.

"What is it?" he asked. Frodo shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Frodo…"

He sighed. "Legolas is watching me."

"Would you like me or Gimli to talk to him?" Frodo shook his head.

"I'll be fine. I just…" His hands shook in his lap. Frodo grasped them together, trying to still them. Kili squeezed his shoulder.

"You're all right," Kili assured him. "Legolas knows he has no right to come near you. Not after rejecting you so harshly."

"I was a child."

Kili squeezed a bit harder and released his shoulder. "I've not seen you love anyone else the way you loved him. Innocent though it was, strange though it is, since you are not a Dwarf, we both know he is your One."

"Or maybe I have simply not met the person who can make me forget him."

"You have met many who waited for _this _day so they might try." Frodo rolled his eyes and tore into the venison set on his plate. "Lady Nes, for example, is smitten with you," Kili continued. "As is Thorin, Dain's son." Frodo scoffed and Kili punched his arm lightly. "That is what I mean: there are many Dwarves who have taken a fancy to you, Frodo. You dance with them, speak kindly to them, but never see them more than what they are to you: friends at best. Your heart is spoken for, though broken."

"Are you telling me I should talk to him?"

"No. I'd rather he crawl on his hands on knees and kiss your furry feet before you should have anything more to do with him after the things he said to you. You were a child and while I understand his aversion at the time—"

Frodo did as well. He did not know it then, being too young to understand that the belief that love knew no age had some limitations, but his affections could only get Legolas in trouble.

"—He had no right to say what he did. He did not have the right to be so cruel."

"Can we _not_ talk about it?"

Kili nodded. "My apologies. Look! Bombur made a cake. It's huge!"

Frodo grinned. It _was_ huge. The cake was pushed in on a trolley, eight layers high, each layer with birthday candles pressed into each loaf.

"How many candles are on it, you think?"

"Knowing Bombur, enough for you _and_ Bilbo."

Frodo whistled. "A hundred and twenty candles, then?"

"Most likely."

"You know, he can't do that _every _year."

"I'd like to see you stop him," Kili challenged. Frodo shook his head.

"Next year."

Two Dwarves entered with a ladder and Bombur presented Frodo with a knife. He shook his head despite the loud applauding, cheeks tinged pink.

"Go on, cut a slice. Might be fun," Kili said, elbowing him playfully. Frodo sighed and stood, taking the knife and climbing the ladder to reach the top layer. He blew the candle at the top out and made to reach for it when it lit again. Frodo started, grabbing onto the ladder, held steady.

"Gandalf gave us the candles, didn't he?" he shouted.

Bombur shouted an affirmative and he could see Bilbo laughing with his arms crossed over his stomach. Frodo blew it again, and again, and one last time before he was certain it'd not light a fifth time before tossing it down to one of the cooks and sliding the knife through the cake, cutting a piece and stuffing it in his mouth before climbing down and handing the knife to a servant who braved the ladder also carrying a stack of plates.

And sat back down.

"That wasn't so bad, wasn't it?"

"Never again," he said. "_Never_ again. _Ever_. Especially the candle!"

Kili scoffed. "You're no fun. Frodo you're _far_ too dour for a thirty-three year old Hobbit! Look, the music's started again. You're of age. It's your birthday. _Forget _about Legolas." Kili stood, and bowed. "May I have this dance, my lord? Cousin to cousin?"

Frodo narrowed his eyes at Kili. "You're planning something."

"I'd _never!_"

Frodo rolled his eye and took his hand, letting Kili drag him around the room until he was laughing like a fauntling, almost tripping over his own feet in the chaos that Kili created.

"May I cut in?"

"Again, Thorin?" Kili said, feigning shock. He released Frodo's hands. "This is…what? The _second _dance?"

"Hardly scandalous," Thorin snapped at him.

"Its fine, Thorin," Frodo said. "Kili's being ridiculous as always."

"I'm _hardly_ ridiculous," Kili huffed.

"You're always ridiculous," Frodo snapped back as Thorin led him away. "I am sorry about him."

"It's fine," Thorin said. "I'm used to it by now. As, I am sure, are you." Frodo shrugged. "I was wondering, Frodo, if you would like to venture to Iron Hills some time now that you are of age and the threats to your life have been lessened somewhat…"

"They are not lessened," Frodo corrected. "Orcs still come for me once in a while and I have been old enough to fight for myself for quite some time now."

"I meant now that you are an adult. You seem as difficult to talk to as always."

"No. Not always. To you, I am difficult to talk to."

Thorin chuckled. "Perhaps. Frodo I am extending an invitation to you to come and visit the Iron Hills if you would like. My father and I would welcome you with open arms."

Frodo hummed. "I will think on it." Thorin beamed, eyes shining before darting above Frodo's head and he sobered. A hand touched Frodo's shoulder and he turned around.

"May I speak with you?" Legolas asked. Frodo's breath caught. "In private?" Frodo released Thorin's hand.

"Very well," he said. He turned back to Thorin. "I apologize. Save one more dance for me?" Thorin brightened at the promise and nodded. Frodo followed Legolas out of the great hall into the corridor. As soon as the door closed and they were engulfed in the cool air and the quiet, Legolas turned to him.

"How are you, Frodo?"

Frodo crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever it is, have your say and be done with it. I did what you asked."

"Did what…Frodo, I was angry at my father when I…_said_ what I did. I never should have taken my anger out on you. I _never_ wanted our friendship to end, _mellon nin_. Frodo you have always been dear to me."

Frodo sighed, staring at the ground. He'd forgive him. He'd forgive him again and again.

But how long would it be until Legolas broke his heart again?

"Frodo, I am _truly_ sorry for that day."

He lifted his head, glaring at Legolas. "I got that the first…what? _Dozen_ times? I _get_ that you're remorseful, Legolas. I do. But damn it, Legolas! I _loved_ you!"

"I know—"

"No. You don't. You _don't_ know what it feels like to _know_ you love someone with all your heart, hope for a future with them when that love for them doesn't die…only to…to be treated as though your very _presence_ is a hindrance and…and to learn they think you nothing more than a brat! To be _hated_!"

Legolas knelt, shaking his head and reaching for Frodo's shoulders. Frodo shied away and Legolas let his hands fall, to rest on his lap instead.

"I don't hate you," he said. "I never did. Oh, Frodo, _never_ believe that I hate you. Why would I? How could I—"

"There you are." They turned to the door. Thranduil closed it behind him. "Is everything all right?"

"Ada—"

"Everything is fine," Frodo said, walking by Thranduil. "I apologize, your majesty. I should not have run off so with Legolas or without."

"Frodo—"

He shot Legolas a glare. "We have _nothing_ to talk about. Enjoy your night."

He entered the great hall again, taken aback by how warm it was compared to the hall. He closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids and taking a ragged breath.

_Why do I still love him? _

"Frodo?" He opened his eyes. Kili frowned at him. "What is wrong?"

"Legolas—"

Kili pulled him away from the door. "I am sorry I was not watching as closely as I should have been."

"You did your best. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine. You're crying again."

"I have dust in my eyes," Frodo lied. "I'll be all right."

_After all this time, why do I still love him so much?_


	3. Chapter 3

It was near dawn when everyone finally agreed to go to bed.

Fili and Dwarka left several hours earlier to put Bíli to bed despite the lad's protests to the contrary, even when he was so tired he couldn't keep his eyes open or stop yawning.

Bless him, he tried, but by the time they left, he was protesting half-heartedly through yawns while laying his head on Fili's shoulder.

Frodo stayed up long enough to remove his jewels and outer clothes, collapsing onto his bed in his undertunic and small clothes, asleep the moment his head hit the pillow…

_"Frodo," Bilbo said, "Stay here. I'll be back by lunch."_

_"All right, Uncle," he said, already pulling a book off the shelf. He returned his uncle's smile and Bilbo left. _

_His smile vanished and his eyes focused on the script before him, elbow on his thigh and his head in his hand. The other hand pinched the paper each time he turned the page. _

_Jolted by the creaking of a door, Frodo looked up. Legolas leaned against the door, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. _

_Frodo's heart beat faster and a smile pulled his mouth upward. He set the book down and approached, schooling himself not to seem overeager to his friend. _

_"Good morning, Legolas," he said. _

_Legolas lifted his eyes and Frodo slowed to a halt, smile dimming. Legolas seemed calm as ever, but there was _thunder_ in his eyes. _

_"Legolas? Is everything all right?"_

_"Yes, yes," he waved him off. "I'm fine."_

_Frodo didn't believe him. Legolas was clearly angry. He didn't know why. _

_"Erm…whatever's wrong, I—"_

_"I said I'm fine," Legolas snapped. _

_"I only—"_

_"What?" Legolas narrowed his eyes. "You wish to help? And _what_ can you do? You're a child! All you can do in this moment, Frodo, is _aggravate_ me further than I already am. I see you as nothing more than an annoying little brother and a spoiled brat. At best, you're a nuisance to me!"_

_Frodo felt weak. His legs seemed heavy beneath him and his heart ached. _

Annoying little brother…

Spoiled brat…

Nuisance…

_He bowed his head, trying to hide the threatening tears. _

_Legolas sighed and Frodo could hear him speaking, but what he said could not be registered. Frodo turned and ran from the room. _

_"Frodo! Frodo, come back! Stop! Frodo, stop!" _

_He didn't stop, only picked up pace, sprinting as fast as he could and dove behind a pillar when Legolas passed by, shouting his name. _

He hates me_, Frodo thought, sliding to the ground and hiding his face in his knees. When his tears had dried, he snuck away through the gates and began to run again. _

_The bells rang. What for, Frodo did not know. _

_A part of him guessed he had caused a bit of trouble in hiding, but he didn't care. _

_He just wanted to go home._

_He wandered Mirkwood for a time, disoriented and lost until he bumped into someone. _

_A Dwarven guard. _

_"Frodo Zabadith?" he asked, bewildered. Frodo sniffed and the guard led him to their camp. "Prince Kili! Your highness!" _

_Kili looked over at him and when he spied Frodo, his merry grin fell._

_"Frodo?! Where is Bilbo? Why aren't you with him?"_

_He couldn't answer, just ran to his cousin and embraced him, weeping…_

Frodo woke and cursed at the wet dark spot on his pillow. He stood and headed to the wash room, splashing cold water onto his face, though it'd not do him much good.

He hated how obvious he looked after he wept. He was already quite pale without having to live in a mountain and his hair. Crying made his eyes stand out more, his cheeks rosy and his lips darker.

How he _hated_ it.

After performing his morning ablutions—though it was nearer to noon—he ate the cooling elevensies meal of ham and cheese sandwiches and a fruit salad on his plate.

He grabbed Sting and strapped it around his waist, heading to the training grounds. It was empty. Most had been celebrating late into the night, but he at least expected to find Fili and Bíli here at least.

Apparently not.

Frodo opted to vent his frustration on a practice dummy instead, slamming Sting repeatedly into the wood.

"What did he ever do to you to warrant such a beating?"

He turned around, glaring at Gimli. "I'm pretending he's a certain Elf."

"Too small," Gimli laughed.

"Then I'll pull out a bigger one," Frodo countered. Gimli laughed.

"Or you could fight me," he asked. "Advice _and_ training."

"Your advice is shit," Frodo said, but he entered the arena. "However, I will not refuse your challenge."

Gimli jumped in after him, handling his father's axes in his hands. Frodo raised Sting, the point aimed at Gimli.

Gimli roared, running to meet him.

Frodo jumped at him, focusing on his breathing. He ducked, dodging a swing from the right ax and parrying a blow from the left. He slammed his elbow into Gimli's chin, forcing him back.

Frodo swung Sting to from the left to the right.

Gimli blocked with his left and slammed his foot into Frodo's abdomen. Frodo gasped, backing off.

"You're off your game."

"Can I still blame the Elf for that?"

"Aye. I'll also blame an Elf for each time Mum made me eat green food. Or you can blame yourself for not paying attention and get your head out of the clouds and _bloody pay attention_ to your surroundings. C'mon, Frodo, this is _child's play_."

Frodo grit his teeth and charged.

Gimli sidestepped him, hooking the blunt curve of his ax around Frodo's ankle and tripping him.

Frodo turned around, glaring at the ax barely touching his shoulder.

"I yield," he said.

The ax is pulled out of his line of vision by Gimli's hand thrust under his nose. Frodo gripped the hand and stood.

"Let's get lunch at the pub. I'm amazed you're not still drunk."

"My tolerance is quite high, and you should know that since I've been drinking since twenty with _you_ and Kili."

Gimli laughed. "Aye, that is true. Say, when will you be heading out on your quest?"

"Not sure yet," Frodo said. "Don't worry: you're still coming with me. I've not changed my mind and I did promise you would, Gimli, dear ol' babysitter of mine." He grinned.

"I think you're mistaking me for Kili."

"You're _both_ my babysitters," Frodo laughed. "Well, _used_ to be."

"Aye: remember the 'used to be' and leave it at that. Now we wallop your arse on the training field."

Frodo snorted. "Should I bow and call you 'master' then? Or 'teacher'?"

"Well, I'd not be opposed to it," Gimli said with a dark smirk. "Let's get drunk."

"I _will_ drink you under the table, Son of Gloin."

"You can try!"

"I don't try. I _do_."

"Now wait a minute here, who drunk _who_ under the table?"

"That was then," Frodo snapped. "I _will_ drink you under the table this day: the twenty-third of September, and you will yield to my superior tolerance for Dwarfish ale."

"Keep telling yourself that, Laddie."

Frodo stopped, chills creeping up his spine. He turned around, eyes glancing around.

"Frodo?" Gimli asked.

_Something's coming. Who? Or what?_

"Nothing," he said. "It's just a chill. Nothing a good tank of mead can't cure."

"All right, then, let's go. What was with Thorin Stonehelm last night? You danced with him three times! People have been talking all day."

Frodo shrugged. "Kili thinks that he…_admires_ me or something like that."

"Probably. Not that I'd get _why_. I prefer a bit more chest than you and he do."

"Don't go marrying a dame until _after_ we get rid of the Ring."

"Well, I might have incentive to keep my head on my shoulders if there were a dame to return to." Frodo laughed.

"Did Ara dump again?"

Gimli sighed. Frodo patted his shoulder.

"Good thing we're getting drunk, then."

"Aye. Damn that woman…"

"Hey, hey, hey, leave that for when we get our drinks!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

~One Month Later~

_Can we please talk? I want to explain what was going on that day if you will let me. I am staying at the White Fox all week if you decide to come.—Legolas _

The week is almost at its end and Frodo struggled with deciding whether or not to meet Legolas. A part of him thought it foolish and that he should let Legolas stew a bit more. The other part of Frodo wanted answers…

And the part that desires answers is why he now forced himself to wear boots (an uncomfortable article, but sadly necessary), a wig to hide face, and a hood to hide his curls, sneaking out of Erebor before dinner, and stealing a pony so to shorten the journey to Dale.

No one guessed his identity on entering the city and Frodo found the White Fox. Legolas sits in the far corner, recognizable because of his lithe stature and the gleam of his silvery-blonde hair. Frodo approached him.

"The seat is reserved, Dwarf—"

He pulled the wig down. "For me?" He asked. The hardness in Legolas' eyes pass and he slouches.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"I almost didn't," Frodo said. "But you said you'd explain what happened _that _day and I would like to know. You have _no _idea how deeply you hurt me, Legolas."

"I admit I do not, but I can guess it hurt as badly as being ignored for twenty years. Even now you are guarded."

Frodo crossed his arms, glaring at him.

Legolas sighed. "Answers then…very well. I was having a bad day, _melon nin_," he said. "And I, like a fool, put my wrath upon you. My father worried about our relationship. There was nothing inappropriate about it, save that a child had a crush on me. And you know that I found it a bit unnerving myself at first. But by then, you were much older and still burned bright. I had thought it'd die, but clearly not.

"I grew used to it and was willing to wait until you were of age to reciprocate. However, my father," Legolas sighed, leaning forward and leaning on the table. "My _father_ decided it of certain…importance to shove another lecture about propriety and reputation down my throat. 'He is not only a child, but a Hobbit,' he had said. 'While I am fond of his uncle and, by extension, his people, I will not stand for an Elf of my blood to mate with a mortal and one so small!' I was furious more on your behalf than mine. I did tell him I had no intention of pursuing you as you were then. I had every intention of waiting until you were of age…"

"That I can understand," Frodo said with a sigh, "and can forgive. You managed my…_infatuation _marvelously and I know you expected it to die. And I can understand how what your father said would have angered you. But still, you decided to take out your ire on _me_. Even if you were angry at your father, even if what he said was so horrid that it bothered you so much, _why_ did you think it was okay to take it out on me?"

Legolas sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted at last. "I tried to apologize as soon as what I said passed my lips, but you had run off. I was scared; we were all scared. You nearly gave Bilbo a heart attack! I understand you were angry as a result and I will not blame you for being angry…but was this _grudge_ against me necessary? Since then, you never once spoke to me, Frodo. This is the most you've spoken to me since and I missed you, Frodo. No…I _miss_ you. I miss, well, _this_. I miss talking to you about whatever runs through your head." He chuckled dryly, raising his head to meet Frodo's and it's all Frodo can do to not look away. "I'd even go so far as I saying that I miss having you braid my hair, silly as it made me feel before…"

"I thought I was doing what you wanted. Did you not want me to leave you alone?"

"At the time, I temporarily needed some space," Legolas said. "But I never wanted you to push me away as you have. I never wanted us to become this estranged, Frodo. I love—"

A shriek echoed in the night, silencing the inhabitants in the tavern and cutting whatever more Legolas was going to say off. The same shivers Frodo felt last month, when he went to have drinks with Gimli, overtook him. Whatever it was shrieked again and every Man, Dwarf, and Elf took up a weapon if they had it.

Frodo pulled Sting out of its sheath, studying the blade. Not orcs.

The doors flew open and nine tall, black robed and hooded beings entered.

"_Shire_," One hissed. "_Baggins_."

Frodo shuddered.

They were _far_ from the Shire. But the only _Bagginses_ here were him and Bilbo. Why would…

"Legolas," he whispered. "They're after the Ring. It's pulling them to Erebor."

"How do you—"

"_Not now_," Frodo hissed pulling the wig back up over his face. Dwarves raced at them, shouting battle cries in defense of the Prince Consort. The men joined in after them, but whoever these…_creatures_ were, they were far more advanced in weaponry.

One attacked Legolas, and he dodged. Frodo ducked between the legs of one, embedding Sting into his back. The creature screamed and Frodo pulled Sting out in time to block another blow from a second creature. He spied a blade rushing for him and he ducked.

"Get down!" a man shouted. Frodo turned to him. He was drinking from a bottle of alcohol and had a torch in his hand. He swore, getting to the ground and the man spat the alcohol into the fire at the creatures, which ran screaming and lit on fire.

"Legolas!" The man said, "We must go—"

"Frodo?!"

"I'm all right," he said, losing the wig and hat. The survivors stared, awestruck by his presence. "Who are you?" he demanded from the Man. "How did you know they feared fire?"

"Later," the Man, a ranger if Frodo guessed correctly, said. Frodo narrowed his eyes at him and scowled.

"No. Now," he demanded. "What were they? Why were they after me or my uncle? And who are you?"

"Frodo," Legolas hissed. "We will explain everything later, but right now, we have to get you home. You need to get…you know what and whatever else you need and we have to leave _now_."

Frodo and the ranger did not break off staring at each other.

"You are Isildur reborn," the ranger said.

"I am."

The ranger seemed to have more to say, but he tensed his jaw and clenched his hands into fists. He radiated hostility. Frodo couldn't blame him. He didn't like much of what he had done in his past either.

"We will worry about this, later," Legolas said, "That goes to both of you! Let's go to Erebor. Frodo you will get your _things_ and we will be on our way."

"Very well," Frodo said, "But I _want_ answers _before _we leave."

"You will have your answers," the ranger promised. "And I will ensure you succeed _this_ time."

Frodo harrumphed. "I was trained for _this_, Ranger. I have no intention other than success." He strode out of the tavern, heading over to his pony, trying to fight down his annoyance with the ranger. Who was _he _to question Frodo and order him around?!

He beat it down as much as he could and got a head start toward Erebor, as the other two would be on full sized horses.

#

Frodo barely beat them to Erebor, descending his pony and handing it to a guard who was, until then, speaking to Kili.

Kili seized Frodo's arm, halting him. "Where have you been?!" he demanded. "Thorin and Bilbo are going wild with worry of you!"

"Send them my apologies then," Frodo said. "Something's come up." He glanced over at Legolas and the ranger. Kili's grip loosened.

"Elf, you have a lot of nerve approaching my cousin…"

"Save it!" Frodo said. "I'm more interested in what the Man has to say." He turned to him and they approached, forming a tight ring together. "Before I take one more step, I want to know who you are and what your interest is in the Ring?"

"I am obligated to tell you _nothing_," he growls. Legolas grabs his arm and glares before turning to Frodo.

"Frodo, this is a friend of mine, Aragorn son of Arathorn: he is a Ranger from the North, officially, however he is the foster-son of Elrond and Isildur's Heir and heir to the throne of Gondor."

"A debatable claim," Kili points out. "Frodo, also, has legitimate claim to that throne." Frodo didn't agree. As far as he was concerned, he lost that right when he took the Ring for himself. Besides, he wasn't groomed to be anything more than the Ring Bearer.

"We will worry about claim to Gondor _later_," Frodo suggests. "Can we agree on that, Master Aragorn?"

"Very well," he said.

"Can we at least_ try_ to be cordial with each other then?" Aragorn gave a stiff nod. "What were those creatures that attacked us at the Fox?"

"Ringwraiths," he answered. "Nazgûl, The Nine, they have many names but only one purpose: to fund the Ring and bring it to their master. We cannot wait idly any longer for you to take action."

"Good," Frodo said, a smirk growing. "At last I can be rid of the burden."

He turns to a guard. "You! Go to Gimli son of Gloin and tell him that I would like to speak with him when the time fits best. Preferably in the morning if not immediately."

He turns again to Aragorn and Legolas, lowering his voice again. "We will need a few spare hours. For packing. If you're interested, both of you, Gimli and I will meet you tomorrow night, at midnight. This will give both of you the time you _also_ will need."

Aragorn glares at him and he glares back. Legolas nods. "We will be there."

"No one is to know we are leaving until we are already gone," he said. "I don't want anyone trying to follow us or stop us. That includes anyone _here_, Kili, if you can handle that."

Kili scoffs. "Please. I managed _you_, did I not? But I will stay here and make sure your escape goes smoothly. Our uncles will not be pleased…"

"They will understand," Frodo said, "Eventually—_Let them pass_!" he shouted at the guards who tried to halt Aragorn and Legolas. When the gates closed behind them, Frodo and Kili walked up the steps.

"You are vibrating," Kili notes.

Frodo grasped his hands. "It's funny," he said. "I am both eager and frightened. A part of me knows secrecy is needed, but I feel terrible not at least saying goodbye to the company before I go and at the same time I feel I must go _now_ though I would be unprepared."

"You made the right decision to wait another day," Kili said. "You look pale. Have you eaten?"

Frodo shook his head. "I forgot to in the excitement," he said.

"I will send food up to you, and then get some rest if you can," Kili said, pulling Frodo into a one arm hug. Frodo glanced up at him and bit his lip.

He wished Kili didn't look so sad.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The urgency he felt from the night before passed the more Frodo forced himself to relax, going through his belongings again and again, even when he was more than certain he had everything he needed. Gimli came in the morning, not having wanted to waste precious sleep and risk being insubordinate toward Frodo.

"Who are we meeting at Laketown?" Gimli asked. Frodo paused in his repacking and turned to him.

"A ranger named Aragorn," he said. "And Legolas."

Gimli arched a brow, lips puckered around his pipe. "The _Elf_ is coming?"

"He might."

"Why?"

"I invited him. Both of them. Legolas and I…_talked_. He is far from forgiven, but I understand a little more about what happened."

Gimli hummed. "Do you have everything?"

"Other than the _Ring_ and food, yes," Frodo answered, sighing. "I have everything I will ever need."

"You _will_ remember it, right?"

"How would I be able to forget the Ring?!" Frodo snapped. Gimli glared at him, expressing his displeasure at Frodo's outburst. Frodo dropped his shoulders and sighed. "I'm sorry. Now that the time has come, I am quite on edge."

"You'll be all right, Lad," Gimli assured him.

"At least you think so," Frodo sighed. "I'm not so sure. I'm…well, to be honest, I'm scared, Gimli." He sat down on the bed, looking at Gimli. "I know it's foolish to be. I've been raised for this. I'm afraid I might not come out alive. It's a decision I made when I was old enough to understand that I might have to give my life for this quest if I must, but I'm afraid to die. Not only that, I'm afraid to live after this. What will my purpose be next? Will I have a purpose?"

"Well, you are Isildur reborn…you _could_ become King of Gondor."

"I don't desire that route."

"Then do what you desire. If it be 'eat, drink, and be merry,' so be it. I'll toast to that. We'll have earned it," Gimli said, grinning. "Live or die, the choice is yours in the end, but I will stand by you to the end, my lord. Besides, if you die, I don't think there is a cavern dark enough to hide me from your uncles."

Frodo laughed. "Perhaps not. Remember that when I start to despair and need to need a swift kick in the arse." Gimli threw his head back and laughed.

Three raps on the door was all the warning they received before Bilbo entered. He scanned the room, frowning. "You're leaving now?"

Frodo nodded. "Gimli and I will leave tonight," he said. Bilbo hummed, heading to the table and sitting down. "Uncle?"

"Give me a moment," he said. He looked at the floor. Frodo approached him and knelt. "You know," Bilbo said. "We all knew this day would come, but I fear it came too quickly for my liking. You're of age, and yet still very young. I hear a tavern in Dale was attacked last night. That you, despite having supposed to be _here_ in bed, were _there_." He fixed Frodo with a stare so sharp, Frodo had to look away.

"I was there, Uncle. And the attack was led by the Nazgûl."

Bilbo sighed, cupping Frodo's cheek. "Are you packed?"

"Yes."

"Do you have provisions?"

"I was going to wait until it was _closer_ to when I had to leave to get those. And the Ring. No point in letting it realize it's time and start—"

"It already has started," Bilbo said, lowering his hand. "It's funny. I've not touched it in twenty years. It's gotten quite easy resisting its call since then, but last night I had a…an unnatural _need_ to have it in my hands since last night. Never have I been more grateful for Thorin's presence…" He sighed. "It would be unwise of me to be near you when you go to retrieve it."

"I'll come by before then," he said, swallowing. He wished Bilbo wouldn't make his task so much harder, unintentional though it was.

"You will come back, won't you?"

Frodo bit his lip, bowing his head. "I can't promise that, Uncle," he said, standing and moving toward the window, staring out at the land cohabitated by Dwarf, Man, and Elf. Behind him, he heard the shaken, heavy breathing that came from his uncle and Frodo's throat felt tight.

He wished there was something he could say to comfort Bilbo, but there were no words that could hold any weight. What's worse, he couldn't face Bilbo right now. It was a silly, childish illusion that Bilbo was unshakeable that he wanted to keep and he knew that if he dared to look at his uncle now…

He didn't want to see Bilbo cry, knowing he was the cause and couldn't do anything to assure Bilbo otherwise. He also knew, if he looked, he would be brought to tears himself.

#

Frodo approached the vault where the Ring was kept, a chain in his hands. He unlocked the box and stared at the simple gold band. Simple, but powerful and radiating evil he couldn't begin to understand. It called to him.

_You don't have to do this_, it echoed. _You could _use _me instead. I will bring you power…_

Frodo heaved a sigh, looping the Ring around the chain and locking it around his neck and tucked into his shirt.

_You betrayed me once. You would sooner do it again_, he reminded himself. He was unsure why he believed the Ring could hear his thoughts, but who knows. Maybe it could. It was a magical ring after all.

The Ring burned cold against his skin from a long time of disuse. He met Gimli down the hall.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Aye," Gimli replied. Frodo's feet shook beneath him, but each step toward the gates grew easier and he managed to stand straight.

Outside, they fixed the hoods of their cloaks and their ponies await them.

#

Legolas and Aragorn camped on the outskirts of Laketown, awaiting their arrival. They were cloaked, simply dressed and there were packs resting on the ground.

Frodo and Gimli descended their steeds and Gimli slapped their rumps back toward Erebor. "Will they be all right?" Legolas asked.

"Elves aren't the only ones who know how to train horses to find their way home," Gimli snarled at him as they entered the city.

Frodo had not been to Laketown in a long time, but his family told him stories of their stay here when they came to rid Erebor of Smaug. Since the disappearance of the Master all those years ago, Laketown thrived under King Bard and his descendants. The water was undrinkable before, but since the dragon fell by Bard's arrow, the water was little else but poison and would not bear home to fish either despite its "new" beauty. Esgoroth, at all times of the year, cast a silver glow in the day and black mirror at night. It was safe to swim and bath in, so long as no one drank from it.

In many ways, Frodo learned, the cost for a beautiful lake was too high. The lake was beautiful to look at, but too deadly—the dragon's last curse on the people of this land. But Erebor, Mirkwood, and Dale found a way to work around it, quickly building a dam around the lake to keep the poison from spreading too far into the Celduin and other tributaries. The dam went from the foot of the Emyn-nu-Fuin (the Mountains of Mirkwood) and the long marshes to just after where the Lake flowed into the Celduin. The poisoned water in Mirkwood, also, was blocked off to protect the animals that called it home. True, flooding was often a constant problem, and many from the three kingdoms were, even now after nearly thirty years along with the Wizard Radaghast's help, searching for a way to rid the water of poison to make the water usable again, even if just to bring it back to its previous state and be a habitat for fish again.

Until then, they came up with a new trade system. Despite the poisoned water, supplies came in bundles from fresher water in the Emyn-nu-Fuin and Mirkwood, reluctantly, agreed to allow hunters to venture into the forest to hunt and sell game. With restrictions. To hunt, a hunter would need a permit stamped in the seal of each king. You needed to have some experience with a bow (at least a year) or other hunting weapon, and know _where_ to hunt. There were certain areas that Mirkwood would not allow for any hunters to pass through under penalty. There was also a season: a three month period in the fall from the beginning of September to end of November to gather enough food to sell to butchers and be distributed. Grain and vegetables were grown and distributed in areas that were unpolluted: usually in Dale and in Erebor by Bilbo's insistence in artificial gardens.

While no system is perfect, and sickness was still an issue in all three kingdoms, they managed without having to abandon their homes. Again.

"Your hostility is unnecessary," Legolas snapped at Gimli.

"I can name a number of times before _now_ that could justify my 'hostility' ten times over."

"He's actually being amicable," Frodo assured Legolas, stopping at the Dancing Faun (a less than kind inn, but good enough for _armed_ travelers). "You don't want to see him hostile toward you."

Gimli snorted. "You could lose a limb or two if I were _really_ being hostile."

Legolas sighed, running his hand through his hair, muttering Sindarin under his breath. Aragorn patted his shoulder and they took their seats. Frodo knew it meant nothing beyond friendship, but his envy surged anyway and he faced forward, tightening his pack just a bit more.

"We make for Lothlorien at first light," he said. Seeing their confusion, he clarified: "I would like to seek Lady Galadriel's advice." Aragorn and Legolas hummed an agreement while Gimli muttered under his breath about more Elves.

"It would be best to keep off roads," Aragorn added. "The Nazgûl will be using them to search for you."

Frodo didn't want to agree with him, but knew he would be a fool to turn away sound advice. "If you know a way to Lorien that avoids roads and Mirkwood—no offense, Legolas—then do so."

"None taken," Legolas said. "I understand. I have a map with me. I may have stolen it from our archives." He pulled it out and held the candle over it. "Crossing through Mirkwood should not be too hard. I know the forest well enough to keep us both off the path and get through safely. While best to avoid Dol Guldur," he pointed at the Southern area of the map were a small picture of a tower resided, but if we cut through _this way_, he traces his finger diagonally southward, we can avoid it. It's abandoned again, true, but that doesn't make it any less foreboding."

"I thought you managed to rid Mirkwood of the evil presence there," Gimli said.

"Evil has a way of lingering. We managed to purge it from the North, but I cannot guarantee the Southern part of the forest. For now, though, we should concentrate on how we're to get around the dam. My father has the river there walled completely off."

"So our option is either to go around the mountains or over it," Aragorn summarized. "We won't be able to cut through—"

"Actually we can," Frodo said. "We don't need to go into the forest just yet. We can pass all that and go around the dam." He traced the route he had in mind which was on the other side of Laketown. "We can leave through Laketown, and down past the dam. True, it takes us too close to the road, but that way, we avoid mountains and we'll have to cross the river anyway. The bridge is just faster and easier, and we won't have to worry about dams or walls or mountains. And once we're on the other side of the Celduin, we can leave the road and cross into South Mirkwood. It would be faster and less hazardous."

"Pity," Gimli said, "I'm curious about those mountains."

"See them on your own time, then," Frodo said, leaning back. "I want this quest to be done as soon as it can be. I'm not on any _particular_ schedule, but with Nazgûl on our tails, swiftness might be favorable."

"True," Gimli said. "So we are agreed that we take the route closest to the road?"

Aragorn hummed reluctantly. "We'd have to cut past the road anyway, I suppose."

"I don't particularly care," Legolas added, stretching. "I agree that faster, the better, though. We've a few hours before dawn."

"Best get some rest while we can," Frodo said. He wasn't sure he'd be sleeping, though, with all the eyes watching him, called by the Ring.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

They shared a room with two others. Their eyes settled on Frodo. He didn't think they realized who he was. It was dark enough they might mistake him for a Dwarf.

Still, gazes, normally, would have turned toward Legolas. Elves rarely came to the cities of Men, so for an Elf to appear, attention would be drawn immediately.

He decided to sleep on the roof instead, claiming the room was stuffy and smelled.

Frodo did not sleep, waiting for the Ring to call on their roommates, draw out their greedy courage, and to attack. He kept his hand on Sting, waiting.

Finally a blade tucked under his chin and a harsh voice whispered in his ear. "Scream and I'll slit your throat."

_Put me on…_Frodo breathed through his nose.

"Oi," the second hissed. "He's a Halfling."

"Erebor's consort?" the one with the knife asked.

"Doubtful. _This_ one's too young. The other's supposed to be in his eighties or nineties now."

_Put me on…_Frodo closed his eyes, relaxing. He released Sting's hilt and pressed against the first, grabbing his wrist and twisting it.

The man choked a scream and Frodo grabbed the knife, embedding it in his shoulder.

"Frodo!" Gimli shouted.

"What's going on in here?" Legolas asked, poking his head in. Aragorn did not speak, holding his sword under the second's chin.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Frodo answered, unsheathing Sting. "Just some thieves. Gimli, hold out his hand for me please."

Gimli grabbed the first Man, pinning him down Frodo stepped on his hand, Sting hovering over the wrist before he sliced down, cutting the hand off.

"Frodo!" Legolas shouted, appalled.

"They're getting off lightly," Gimli assured Legolas. "Thieves are intolerable in Erebor. Too many have tried going after the Ring before." Frodo cut the hand off the other. "Usually they're executed on sight."

"And so they would be if they were Dwarves," Frodo said, cleaning Sting on the jerkin of the second, weeping thief. "But they are Men, so the most I can do is this and even _this_ may be overstepping my bounds." He sheathed Sting. "They took their time, though…"

"That may have been me," Aragorn said. "I don't sleep easily and they were…"

"Radiating 'hostility'?" Frodo asked, smirking.

Aragorn chuckled. "How did _that_ word become a joke?" Frodo shrugged.

"Every group needs an inside joke of _some _sort," he said. "For the Company, even now, it's 'brood majestically' and 'King Kili.' There's probably more, but those are the ones I know…"

"Brood majestically?"

"King Thorin has long suffered _that_ term from the entire company," Gimli said. "Mahal! He's getting blood on my boots!"

"You don't have to stand on him anymore and be glad it's just your boots," Frodo snapped.

Legolas entered the room, avoiding the thieves on the floor. Frodo sighed, deciding to take pity on him.

"We'll leave now, but I'll need a parchment and ink to write a note to the keeper. Hopefully my uncles won't be angry about this by the time we return."

_If we return._

"Did you bring your signet?" Gimli asked, fishing out what he needed.

"I packed it last minute," he replied.

#

Granted, they could have done without the guards hunting them down. But they manage to escape the city just as the sun began to rise, and paused to eat, passing around jerky and fruit.

Aragorn hummed a tune under his breath and Frodo halted taking a bite of an apple to listen.

"Is that the _Lay of Beren and Luthien_?" he asked.

Aragorn paused in his singing. He nodded.

"I thought I recognized it," Frodo said. "You sing it well."

"Thank you."

Legolas snorted. "He sings it because he's a sap. His beloved's an Elf in…she's back in Imladris, right?"

Aragorn hummed. "She is." Legolas leaned back on his branch. "And she's Elrond's daughter…"

Frodo almost choked on his water. "Wouldn't that make her your—"

"We're not _blood_ related!" Aragorn snapped, blushing. "It doesn't count."

"Erm…"

Frodo and Gimli glanced at each other. Perhaps Elves and Men saw it differently, but blood related or not, someone addressed as "brother" or "sister" is usually regarded in the same was as blood.

"Suit yourself," Gimli said.

"We don't agree, but I suppose Elves and Men see this sort of thing…differently."

"No, Elves don't," Legolas said, "But they really aren't blood related and they didn't grow up together, so most, save Lord Elrond, overlook it."

"_Ego, migo orch_!" Aragorn shouted at them. Frodo, Gimli, and Legolas laughed. "You're all arses."

"_Goheno nin, mellon,_" Legolas laughed. "We'll stop."

"Speak for yourself," Gimli chortled.

Legolas threw an apple at him. It hit his helmet, hence doing barely any damage. "_We_ will stop," he snarled. Gimli glared back.

"Down, Gimli," Frodo said.

"I'm not a dog!" Gimli shouted at him.

Frodo stood and began to pack, ignoring him. "If we're done, we should get going," he said.

#

"…got them arguing among themselves," Frodo giggled. "They were so busy trying to decide how to cook my uncles and the others that it took all night. Gandalf came along, broke a large rock to let sunlight pass through and they turned to stone."

"Is it wrong to feel a tad sorry for them?" Legolas asked. At the odd looks, he sighed. "Perhaps I'm odd, then…"

"Your lack of hostility is disturbing," Gimli said dryly.

Legolas glowered at him. "I don't feel _that_ sorry. It's just a bit hard for me to _not_ pity the idiotic. Such as a certain Dwarf I could name…"

"Oi!"

"Gimli, how about you go next," Frodo suggested.

His stomach growled and he fished a stick of jerky to chew on. He guessed it was long past second Elevensies…

"Well, there was a time when…"

Frodo sighed, he heard about Ara plenty of times, but story after story about his One had Aragorn and Legolas laughing and Gimli, like his father, was just as passionate about love.

Still, misadventures in courting are often a good source of entertainment.

Soon Gimli and Aragorn are trading stories.

At least one of them could approach the ranger unguarded, Frodo decided. Even the more cordial conversations he had with Aragorn so far have been guarded.

He understood that Aragorn was Isildur's Heir.

Fine.

Let him do what he will with that information.

Frodo didn't know what it was about him that put Aragorn on guard around him.

"At least it won't be completely unpleasant, don't you think?" Legolas asked.

Frodo looked up at him.

"You and Gimli get along. I am a long time friend of Aragorn's. Now Gimli is managing to befriend Aragorn as well with silly love advice."

"It's not all silly," Frodo said. "Besides, some of Gimli's stories are ones I've witnessed in action."

Legolas hummed.

"You've not told a story yet either," he said.

Legolas shrugged. "I'll wait until they're done. The story I have in mind is…well, the only one I can think of is one I'm still living. I might choose a different tale."

"Go for one when you were a child," he suggested. "Maybe fumbling with your bow with the first time. You weren't always so skilled with it."

"True. I wasn't," he said, smiling. "Or I could talk about the time a little Hobbit went around a skinchanger's house wanting to steal puppies."

"I was _five_. And there were puppies. What would you expect?"

"Said five year old thought it okay to court me."

"Again! I was _five!_" Frodo snapped, blushing.

He didn't _really_ remember that day. But there were other days where Legolas would let him braid his hair and string flowers into it before _the incident_.

He always looked particularly lovely with blue flowers…or red…Preferably blue to match his eyes.

"And it's not _my_ fault you look good with flowers in your hair."

Legolas blinked. His mouth curved up into a smile. Frodo's blush deepened and he turned away from him, glaring at his feet.

"Anyway," he said. "We don't have time for that…that…"

"I think it is called courting," Legolas said. Frodo winced, hands curling into fists. "And whether we have time or not is entirely up to you.

* * *

Sindarin:

Ego, migo orch=go kiss an orc

Goheno nin, mellon=I'm sorry, friend or I'm sorry, buddy


	7. Chapter 7

Early update! Expect more tomorrow!

* * *

"How is it?" Aragorn called.

Legolas swung down, landing on a branch. "I can see the Anduin _at last_!" he said.

"I thought you'd be sad to leave your home," Gimli muttered. Frodo yawned, stretching. Three weeks of little rest and trees everywhere…there was the one exciting spider attack, but otherwise the forest had been awfully dull.

"My home is on the _other_ side, idiot Dwarf!"

Gimli snorted.

"Gimli, leave Legolas alone," Frodo sighed. "We all know you do that just because you like to rile him up. Legolas, try to ignore Gimli."

"If only it were that easy," Legolas snapped back, joining them on the ground. "That spiders are around proves just what I said: evil lingers in the forest and the sooner we're out the better."

Frodo agreed. The spiders, though easy to deal with, could quickly become a problem in Mirkwood again if the Elves weren't careful. "How much longer will we be in the forest?"

"At most one more night," Legolas said. "We might make it to the forest edge by then if we're fast enough."

"Then let's be fast enough," Aragorn said. "I, too, don't like this forest. There is a poison lingering here." They followed Legolas.

_Put me on…_Frodo clenched his jaw and ignored the call. He dared not reach for it, though he itched to touch the Ring. Gimli grabbed his shoulders.

"Frodo?"

"I'm fine," he said. "The Ring's acting up. That's all. It wants me to put it on."

Aragorn seized his collar. "If you _dare—_"

"Don't take me for the fool I once was," Frodo snarled back. "I won't put it on. I'll never put it on. But if you think that doesn't mean it'll _try_ to get me to put it on or that it will prey on my mind, you're _wrong_. It is trying all the time and it might be whatever has affected the forest that's making it drag me down."

"You'll have to forgive me if I do not think your will is as strong as you claim it to be," Aragorn said, releasing him and storming ahead.

"What is your problem anyway?" Frodo shouted. "I have not wronged you! I don't know you! And I'm _not_ Isildur! I happen to have the misfortune of having once _been_ him! That doesn't mean I _am_ him!"

Aragorn ignored him. Legolas sighed.

"Try to understand," he said. "Aragorn has Isildur's blood, but you have his soul. Aragorn is actually quite kindhearted when you get to know him. He is slow to trust and quick to judge."

"So he believes I'll give into the Ring anyway?"

"Most likely," Legolas said.

"I won't." They followed after him. He looked at Gimli and Legolas "But _if_ I do, then let him do what he thinks is best," he decided. "Even if it costs me my life."

Gimli hummed his agreement, but Legolas' face bore horror. He opened his mouth to speak and Gimli cleared his throat.

"It was Frodo's decision to begin with. And he knew the quest might cost him his life anyway. He isn't fearless and he doesn't _want_ to die. He's not _that_ reckless, but he decided that if his death was the price, then so be it…"

Gimli's voice faded the further ahead Frodo walked.

He felt chills crawling up his spine and he paused, searching around the trees for anything that would cause it.

Nothing.

He climbed onto a rock and scanned for Aragorn. He managed to find him, though the Ranger easily could be mistaken as part of a tree with his ability to camouflage himself. Frodo jumped down, landing catlike on the ground, and ran to catch up so to make him pause and wait for the others.

He stopped, as did Aragorn, at the sound of a scream.

"Frodo?!" Aragorn shouted.

"Here!" he called back. "Legolas and Gimli are behind!" They ran through the trees.

"What was that?" Gimli demanded. "That was no sound made by any creature we here can name! Not even Orcs sound like that!"

"Nazgûl?" Frodo asked.

"Most likely," Aragorn said, pulling his sword out of its sheath.

Gimli muttered Khuzdul under his breath, pulling his axes free. Frodo unsheathed Sting and Legolas climbed into the trees, sending branches down after him. Aragorn handed Frodo blade oil and reached for his flint, setting his sword on fire.

"This better not ruin my blade," he growled at him, lighting Sting on fire. Another screech sent shivers down Frodo's spine and he focused on breathing.

_Put me on! You could run! Leave them! _

Frodo shoved the Ring's temptations down, readying himself for the approaching fight. _I don't need it_, he reminded himself. _I never needed it_.

Four cloaked wraiths step toward them, swords held in their black armored hands. Frodo could hear his blood rushing through his ears. His heart beat fast in his chest, trying to make him light headed, make it difficult to think. He closed his eyes.

_"Calm your heart," _Dwalin once instructed him. _"Letting it race will make you light headed and will only help you get killed. Control your heartbeat."_

He opened his eyes and aimed the tip of his flaming sword at one of them, breathing through his nose. Gimli attacked first, roaring a battle cry. One attacked Legolas, who jumped out of the Nazgûl's path. One came at Aragorn and the last approached Frodo.

"_The Ring, Halfling…_"

_Put me on_.

Frodo lunged, swinging his blade at the creature's leg. It screeched and backed away. It raised its weapon and Frodo parried the blow. The heat from his blade scorched his skin and he pushed back. The exchange continued.

"Frodo!" Gimli shouted. "Run!"

He shoved his opponent back and chased after the others, breaking branches as they ran. Gimli seized Frodo's cloak and pushed him forward, swinging his axe down onto a Nazgûl that Frodo did not realize had gotten close to him.

"Gimli!"

He raced after them. Aragorn skidded to a halt and Frodo almost rammed into him. They were surrounded.

"Well," Gimli muttered, "It was nice while it lasted."

"Don't be so pessimistic," Frodo snapped at him. Sting's flames licked and whipped the air. The Nazgûl aimed their blades at them.

"Frodo," Aragorn said. "When I say, jump and stab them in the face if you can reach it."

"Don't belittle me," Frodo said. "I can reach just _fine_."

He waved Sting in an almost hypnotic sway.

"Now!" Aragorn shouted.

They raced at the creatures, Frodo sprung. His feet hit one's chest and he embedded Sting into the hood. The creature screamed and erupted in flames. Frodo jumped down. His shoulder stung and he almost dropped Sting.

"Frodo!"

He saw a light beside him, and glanced. The burning Nazgûl were running. He reached for his shoulder where a dagger was still embedded there. He pulled it out and screamed, dropping the blade and Sting fell from his hands.

Gimli grabbed him under the arms. "Frodo, stay awake."

He gasped for air and the world was growing dark and he saw shadows. Heard screams.

"Ara_gorn! Legolas!" _

_"What happened?"_

_"He was stabbed!"_

Frodo was set on the ground. "Can't…breathe…"

His shirt was ripped. _"Legolas, I need athelas. Do you have some?"_

_"I do."_

A cold chill covered his shoulder and he gasped, reaching for his throat. There was a bright, white light and he turned toward it. A cool hand touched his cheek and he tried to focus.

_"Lasto beth nîn, Frodo," _Legolas said. The words beckoned to him. _"Tolo dan nan galad."_ He was lifted off the ground. Everything felt heavy.

_"Meet me in Lorien," _Legolas said. _"And hurry!"_

_"Be swift!" _Gimli said. _"Keep him safe."_

_"Don't doubt me, Dwarf. No harm will befall him."_

He was running…No. _Legolas_ was running while he carried him. He recognized they had entered a glen and cool warmth may have been the sun, but otherwise, Frodo couldn't tell the difference of anything. He felt water on the soles of his feet…

_"Frodo, stay awake, we'll—Haldir! Haldir! Elia sé!"_

_"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion."_

_"Ennas na allû! Násë nahta na Ulaer ídh násë firië!"_

_"Tolo óni! Lintië!"_

_"Frodo, hold on!" _Frodo gasped. _"No…nonono, stay awake, Frodo. Just a little longer, melleth nín…just a little longer…"_

* * *

~Elfish~

_Note: I had difficulty finding a proper translator other than Arwen-Undomiel since most of what I needed was NOT there. I tried, but some of this is actually Quenya mixed with Sindarin. Tolkien is spinning in his urn more than usual with this butchery…but I tried. *bows out*_

Lasto beth nîn, Frodo, Tolo dan nan galad=hear my voice, come back to the light.

Elia sé=help him

Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion=Welcome, Legolas son of Thranduil

Ennas na allû! Násë nahta na Ulaer ídh násë firië=There is no time! He was stabbed by the Nazgûl and he is dying. Please save him.

Tolo óni! Lintië=Come with me! Quickly!

melleth nín=my love


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't know where he was when he woke. Were they still in Mirkwood? He blinked. No. It was lighter here. Birds sang freely and the soft breeze was slightly warmer. The air was clean and airy, not stuffy and close as it was in the southern regions of Mirkwood.

Frodo sighed and tried to move. His body ached and sitting up took more energy than it should have. He groaned, doubling over and gripping his stomach. He saw stars and his stomach felt as though someone squeezed around it in a tight fist.

"Oh…" He was shaky and his head pounded. He laid back down. "Oh, Yavanna…"

"Frodo!" Gimli said, laughing. "Mahal's hammer, _never_ scare me like that again!"

"Gimli," he said weakly. "Get me something to eat. Something big and meaty and greasy. _Now_."

"I'll try, but no promises. I don't think these weed-eaters know what a greasy breakfast _is_."

"I don't care! Kill something if you have to, but I _need_ to _eat_!"

Gimli laughed and left. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Good," Frodo said. He focused on breathing. He managed to turn on his side, glancing at a pitcher of water. He eased himself up and reached for it. His shoulder tinged and he pulled back, gripping the wound through the bandage.

"You're awake."

He looked up at Legolas and sighed. "Obviously," he said. "I'm awake and _starving_."

"So that is the reason why Gimli has gone to harass the cooks?"

"Most likely," Frodo said, smiling weakly. "What…what happened to my shoulder, I don't quite…I don't remember." Legolas poured him a glass of water and handed it to him. "Thank you."

"We were in a fight against the Nazgûl," he said. "You were stabbed with a morgul blade, which are poisoned. Aragorn did what he could to stave the poison, but the rest of it had to be taken care of here."

"Which is Lorien?"

"Yes. We crossed the river a week ago."

Frodo dropped the cup, water drenching the ground and soaked into the earth. "A _week?!_"

Legolas picked up the cup and set it down before easing Frodo down. "Yes. A week. You were healing. And you still are, so we are _not _leaving until you are well enough to travel."

"That is—"

"You may have no reservations about your own life, Frodo Baggins," Legolas hissed. Frodo paused, staring at him. No one called him by that name except for Bilbo. "But I will not stand by and let you drive yourself to exhaustion and death! So you are staying in this bed until Lord Celeborn states otherwise!"

"But…"

"_No_," Legolas snapped. "Gimli, Aragorn, and I agreed. You are to rest and _only when you are recovered_ will we continue on."

"Whoever said this was a democracy?" He growled.

"Whoever said that just because you're the Ring Bearer that you are also our leader?" Legolas bit back. Frodo stared at him, taken aback. "Knowing the geography of the land is much different than having someone on our side who has actually _walked_ it."

"You mean Aragorn," Frodo stated.

"I do. Aragorn is a Ranger and a traveler. He knows these lands best out of the four of us, Frodo. I know his attitude toward you has been questionable at best, but he wants the Ring destroyed as much as the rest of us. He will lead us to Mordor and back without fail. I trust him with my life. The only one I would trust more is Gandalf—"

"Beef stew with hearty potatoes! And more chips than you'll need in a lifetime!"

Frodo grinned. "Thank you, Gimli."

"And the tree—"

"I was just leaving," Legolas said, stepping away from the bed. "Enjoy your meal, Frodo." He disappeared behind the canopy.

"What was that about?"

"He decided to yell at me," Frodo said nonchalantly. "Mostly about how I need to heal before we set out again…we should leave in two days."

"Is this what he was yelling at you about? You're hastiness?"

"Partly. And my sense of self-preservation…."

"Well, it's questionable at best…"

"_Gimli._"

"Eat your food," Gimli sighed. "Besides, it would be better for you to have as much of your strength back as often. That wound won't _fully_ heal, but," he shrugged. "It'll _mostly_ heal, so the likelihood it'll be much of a bother is slim."

Frodo sighed, chewing a thick cube of steak. He swallowed. "Fine. And thank you for the meal. You just saved me from passing out again."

"Well, just holler when you're hungry again." Gimli stood. "I should get going: Aragorn wanted my help with sorting out what we need in our packs."

"We can't be low _yet_," Frodo said.

"And we aren't," Gimli assured him, "But it doesn't hurt to make sure we have enough."

"True." He lifted his good arm and rubbed the back of his neck. "Again, thank you for the food and if I pass out again, hopefully, it won't be from anything more than exhaustion."

"It _better_ be just exhaustion. A healer should be in soon enough to look at your shoulder. You should be able to walk soon and get those muscles moving again. When that happens, find me so I can whip your ass back into shape."

"I might avoid you in that case," Frodo said, grinning.

"Then _I'll_ seek you out and drag your ass to the arena," Gimli threatened before leaving. Frodo finished eating, mindful of his injured shoulder. Once finished, he set the tray on the table and leaned back, staring at the canopy above him.

Trees blocked out the sun—a pity. Frodo sighed. When he was little, he spent many a spring and summer in the field outside of Erebor with his family picnicking. While Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Dwarka trained on the field, Frodo and Bilbo would lean back and stare at the sky. Bíli would either sleep on Frodo's chest or Bilbo's while they guessed at the shapes of the clouds or Bilbo told him stories of his adventures and sometimes of Frodo's first. He didn't remember much of it, being only five.

Bilbo told him that they had gone to Erebor for Frodo's protection. Orcs were after him led by a particular she-Orc named Mog. They wanted to kill him because of who he was and he was known by many names: Ring Bearer, Isildur, the king of Men…

But to his family and friends, he was always just Frodo Baggins and he was a five year old fauntling then. Hardly dangerous. Bilbo explained that the Dark Lord feared him and wanted to annihilate him when he was still harmless…still _innocent_. But he only remembered bits and pieces of this. The only thing he clearly remembered in full was when he met Legolas and they became friends.

When they met, Frodo remembered being awed by the tall Elf. He was fascinated with the others too, and he was told that he had been naughty in Rivendell, wandering off with Lord Elrond's sons and scaring Bilbo. But he didn't remember that. He knew Ro and Dan, of course, like them. They had been fine playmates when he ventured to Rivendell with Bilbo once for his studies.

But Legolas…he was unique. His eyes were sky blue rather than the dark blue or brown. His hair was even a lighter shade of blond, almost white. His attire was also different. The looser attire of Rivendell offered the inhabitants a sort of comfort, but Legolas never gave up his form fitting clothes.

At that time, Legolas would let him ride on his shoulders and snuck him extra food behind Bilbo's back. He spoke kindly even when Frodo did something he shouldn't have. He let Frodo play with his hair despite how ridiculous he must have looked afterwards, adding colorful flowers into those tresses and weaving them into braids…

Frodo turned onto his side and hiding his face in the pillow. "I don't love him anymore," he whispered. "I don't…I can't…"

#

Three more days passed in quiet boredom before the bandages around his shoulder and torso were removed. Frodo stretched, eager to get out of the bed and walk around.

"Don't strain yourself too much," the healer said. If you feel tired, I would encourage you to rest. And _do not_ engage your Dwarven friend in combat for another two or three days."

Frodo nodded, though he doubted that would stop Gimli from trying to catch him off guard anyway. Well, so long as _he _tried, he didn't think there was much else he could do. He left the infirmary and roamed the forest, ignoring the curious glances in his direction.

As he explored, a fitful restlessness clawed under his skin. Frodo tried to stave it off, doing what he can to rid it from his body: exploring, jogging, climbing…Frodo groaned, leaning against the trunk and tapping his foot against the branch he sat on.

"What are you doing up there?"

Frodo looked down. Aragorn frowned at him. "You shouldn't frown so much," he said. "You'll grow old early." Aragorn rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to take it easy? I fail to see how climbing trees fits into that."

"Well I'm resting _now_, aren't I?"

Aragorn latched onto a lower branch and scaled up the tree as easily as any Elf. He sat on a branch below Frodo's. "You're anxious," he concluded.

"That's one way to put it," Frodo said, "The sooner I'm rid of it, the better."

Aragorn hummed. "So I see. Legolas told me he told you that I would be leading the quest."

"He said something about you knowing the land better than I. Which is probably true."

"It is, but I am here to make sure you do not give into its pull. You did express that it…called you."

Frodo nodded. "It does. It's like…like an itch, a voice in the back of my head: _put me on_, is what it says…I know you doubt me, but the Dwarves of Erebor and the Elves of Mirkwood and Rivendell have taught me what went wrong, and why and how. I know what my mistakes were and I know what I must do. I will not deny that it frightens me, but I didn't grow up with hope for another option," he said. "My uncle, the king, he was quite clear about that: failure is not an option. This is my task alone and I must see it through to the end, whatever that end will be."

Aragorn stared at him. "That is a burden a child never should carry. I never knew about my heritage until I was nearly a man and certainly old enough to believe it."

"I didn't grow _up_ with that mindset," Frodo corrected. "It was after a skirmish when I was about twenty that I was told this. In Man year's that's about…twelve or thirteen. I was old enough to take it. True, I did despair a bit, but I learned that despair would only ever get in my way and the Ring would take advantage of it. I was trained for this quest, Aragorn. But that doesn't mean I don't have the same weakness. Like you, I know to fight that weakness and resist the Ring's temptations. For now…for now it's down to reminding myself that I don't need it."

Aragorn hummed. "Odd."

"What is?"

"We fear the same thing," he said, glancing at Frodo. "How about this: we hold each other accountable. The Ring will torment both of us, of this I have no doubt." Frodo nodded. "However, we can work together to make sure neither of us falls to its call." He held his hand out. "In this way, we can put the past behind us and start anew. It's a long way to Mordor. I'd rather we _not_ fight the whole way."

Frodo nodded and grasped Aragorn's hand. "We'll fight together, then. No more fighting. And you were the one picking a fight anyway."

Aragorn laughed. "I suppose I was. My apologies then. We should get down. Dinner will be served by the time we return."


	9. Chapter 9

His restlessness was like a dull ache. Sort of like the ache one gets when they have sat in one place for so long doing nothing but stare at a dry history book in the middle of summer.

Frodo stared at the green canopy, frowning at the slivers of sunlight. The Nimrodel rushed by, water slapping the grassy shore and slickening the rocks beneath it.

"Have you been here this whole time?"

He turned to the Elf who named himself Haldir and sat up, crossing his legs.

"Not the whole time. I took a walk after breakfast, stopped here around elevensies and I suppose it is past lunch now."

"You best not wander off alone."

Frodo narrowed his eyes. "Am I not safe in the Lady's realm?"

Haldir paused, tilting his head to the side. The corners of his mouth turned upward.

"I see why Legolas fancies you," he said.

Frodo stood, casually resting the hilt of his sword on Sting.

Haldir chuckled. "Peace, Prince of Erebor, I mean no harm by it. I fancy women, anyway. I only mean that I like your spunk. Your wanderings off have worried your body guard and he was all but ready to raze the forest to the ground."

Frodo slumped his shoulders. _Damn it, Gimli_, he thought. "I apologize about him. He means no harm in it. Gimli is quite protective."

"As he should be," Haldir said. "You are still healing."

"I feel fine," Frodo sighed following Haldir back toward the Elven city. "I do not feel as ill or weak as before."

"That is good to hear. But I feel he would worry even if you were not healing."

Frodo shrugged. "Gimli used to be my babysitter along with my cousin Kili. Then he was my weapons master and now he is my friend. I've known him my whole life. He is like an older brother to me."

"Then do not worry him as much as you do. Brothers should be kinder to their brothers."

Frodo grinned. "Where's the fun in that?" Haldir laughed. "I take it Gimli wasn't the _only_ one who was worried?"

"No. Your other companions were worried also."

Frodo groaned. "Worrywarts all of them! You'd think I was a fauntling with the way they treat me and not a full grown Hobbit!"

"With a Wizard breathing down their necks and yelling their ears off, I would be a 'worrywart' as well." Frodo looked at him, brow furrowed. "Gandalf has arrived and wishes to talk to you."

"Well that's more forgivable, I suppose," Frodo said. "Where is Gandalf, by the way?"

Haldir stopped and pointed behind Frodo. He turned around and smiled up at the Wizard approaching them with Lord Celeborn beside him.

"Ah! Frodo. You had us in a frenzy."

"I was under the impression that Lorien was safe enough to spend some time alone."

"Oh, it is," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff. "We were more worried that you had run off alone with the restlessness that's been eating at you."

Frodo chuckled. "And risk Legolas shooting at me? I'd rather stay in the general area and _try_ to relax despite my, er, _restlessness_."

Gandalf's eyebrows shot up.

"In his defense," Frodo said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I _was_, trying to sneak out of the dead of night when my legs were still a bit wobbly and if he had any intention of killing me, he would have done so. Why have you come, Gandalf? If I may ask."

"You may," Gandalf said. "It concerns the Ring, but that is all I will tell this moment. The whole tale will have to wait until the council tomorrow, my dear Frodo."

Frodo nodded. "I should find the others and tell them I am all right. It was good to see you Gandalf. I'll see you at dinner tonight?"

"Most likely. Oh, Frodo, be wary of our guests: the Men or Gondor aren't quite used to the sight of a Hobbit and may be slightly…aggressive."

Frodo frowned. "I understand."

He had heard of the valiant men of Gondor. And of their arrogance which rivaled that of the Dwarves of Erebor during the reign of Thror.

"Thank you for telling me. I'll _try_ not to kill any of them."

Gandalf snorted and Frodo walked toward the glen where the others were staying below the trees. Aragorn was there, smoking. He grinned at Frodo. "Where've you been?"

"By the Nimrodel," Frodo said. "Thinking."

"Hmm…"

"Where are the others?"

"Still looking for you, I suppose." His gaze shifted past Frodo and his smile vanished. "Are you lost, Friend?"

Frodo turned around.

The man was dressed in leather armor. His arms were covered in metal vambraces and he wore a red cloak over his shoulders. His blue eyes studied us and his gold-brown hair fell to his shoulders. The tunic he wore over his leather bore the symbol of the White Tree of Gondor. His mouth curved into an easy smile.

"Not quite," he admitted, I was exploring the forest a bit. I've never been to an Elven city, you see, so I was curious what it would be like." He turned to Frodo. "Pray, what creature are you?"

"I am a Hobbit," Frodo said with some resignation. "Otherwise called a 'Halfling.' However, I advise you to refrain from that title. My people are sized exactly as they are meant to be sized and are not _half_ of anything, thank you very much. As for my origins, I am one of the nephews of the King of Erebor. And my name is Frodo."

The man did not blink at Frodo's introduction. "You are the named Ring-Bearer? Isildur Reborn?"

"I am."

He nodded his head at Frodo. "Boromir, son of Denethor. I hail from Gondor."

"I know," Frodo replied. "The emblem on your tunic told me as much."

"Are Half—_Hobbits_ usually so saucy?"

Frodo grinned. "No. Just me. And I learned it from my _other_ uncle, who is also a Hobbit."

"The adopted brother of your king, no doubt."

"His _husband_ actually," Frodo said, watching Boromir's expression shift to one of shock and discomfort.

"That…that's…oh…" Boromir stuttered. Aragorn choked on smoke, trying not to laugh.

Frodo grinned at Boromir brightly, hands clasped behind his back.

It _never_ got old.

The men of Esgaroth were quite comfortable with it. Even practiced it as the Dwarves and Elves did. But not _everyone_ was used to the idea of two males and many Dwarves had fun mocking the sensitivities of the Men who were not used to witnessing _âkh-âzyung _or _imya __yérëmë_.

"I would have guessed an experienced solider such as yourself, Captain, would be used to seeing same-sex couples. It is quite prevalent in the army. Or at least it is so in Erebor and the surrounding lands of Esgaroth of Mirkwood." Frodo blinked and tilted his head to the side, adopting an expression of innocence. "Is that not the case in Gondor?"

"I…admit I wouldn't know. They do say ignorance is bliss."

Frodo and Aragorn exchanged looks. He looked at Boromir again.

"_Dôl gîn lost,_" Frodo said. "_Usavne__ië nóla_."

Aragorn started to cough again. Boromir glanced from Frodo to Aragorn and back.

"Did you insult me?"

"I stated an opinion based off of my first impression of you," Frodo corrected. "It is not my fault my companion thought it was amusing."

"Frodo! There you are!" Gimli shouted, stomping over. "Where were you?"

"I never the forest, Gimli," Frodo assured him. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Gimli crossed his arms and sighed. He turned to Boromir who was studying them with cautious curiosity and a hint of horror lit his eyes. "What's up with him?"

"_Hi muzum __âkh-âzyung_," Frodo said casually. Gimli shook his head.

"Don't tease him when we're nowhere near Erebor to fix any mess you cause," Gimli snapped.

"You're no fun," Frodo said. "Where's Legolas?"

"Still looking for you, I suppose," Gimli said, shoving an apple into Frodo's hands. "Best to just stay here. The pointy-eared bastard will show up eventually. Now eat."

"What? No tea?"

"Don't test me," he growled.

Frodo sniggered and sat across from Aragorn, eating his apple. Gimli managed to coax Boromir into a conversation and Aragorn read a book while he smoked his pipe. Frodo tossed the apple core behind him and stretched.

Legolas arrived a few minutes later, his panic abating to restrained ire. Frodo shifted to lie on the ground, head pillowed by his arms crossed behind it. Legolas stood over him.

"Are you well?"

"I'm much better," Frodo assured him. "And as you see, there is no need to turn me into a pincushion."

Legolas sighed, sitting beside him. "You find enjoyment trying your friends."

"It was unintentional. But it was fun in a way hearing you were running about."

"_Frodo_…"

"Fine. Maybe not _fun_ per say. I had more fun messing with the Gondorian anyway. He's quite handsome, in his own way."

Legolas tensed beside him. "In his own way," he agreed after a few long seconds of contemplation. "I guess. I wouldn't know. He's too tall for my liking…"

Frodo tilted his head up to the Elf. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

Frodo turned onto his stomach. "Are you jealous of him because I think he's handsome?"

"Does it matter?" Legolas asked, finally looking at him. Frodo blinked.

"No. It does not."

* * *

AN: Again, Khuzdul and Elfish terms listed below are loose at best…

~Khuzdul~

âkh-âzyung=Khuzdul. lit. men-love, loosely: men's love, homosexuality

Hi muzum âkh-âzyung=he is a homophobe, lit: he is rude to homosexuals

~Elfish~

imya yérëmë=Quenya. Same sex love. Imya=identical, same. Yérë=sexual desire. –më=suffix for love

Dôl gîn lost. Usavneië nóla=your head is empty. I do not believe that is wise.


	10. Chapter 10

Frodo scanned the council room, eyes flitting across each face present, lingering a little longer on those he knew. Apart from his companions, there was Gandalf, Boromir, Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond, and his sons.

Gandalf's story proved to be ill news. The Istari was small enough to begin with. It could not bode well to have a wizard who swore to aid them when they needed it betray them. Frodo displayed the Ring for them to see, explaining its power.

"Why not, then, _use _the Ring against its master?" Boromir asked. Frodo grit his teeth, eyes flashing at him. He schooled his ire and forced it down.

"Only a fool would believe the Ring would betray Sauron," he said. "Trust me, Lord of Gondor: you do not know what it is you ask. I was betrayed by this Ring once I would council all others against it. Put this desire for it from your mind."

"What makes you sure you will not fall into its trap again?" Boromir challenged.

"What makes you certain you are _not_ at this moment?" Frodo bit back. Boromir gaped at him, startled by the accusation.

"I know myself."

"I'm not saying you don't," Frodo said. "The Ring's treachery is deeper than you think and your belief that we can use it against Sauron is _exactly_ what it wants you to think and it can make it seem like your own thoughts when it is not. Either you can trust my word or you can leave. Our only hope is its destruction and I will see it destroyed or die trying before I let it engulf our world in darkness again. You're suggestion will only ensure and hasten that darkness over the land. Can you live with yourself knowing that?"

Boromir stared at Frodo for a while before lowering his eyes.

Frodo turned to the Elrond. "In my past I failed in protecting these lands and allowed the kingdom of men to deteriorate. It is my mess to fix and I will fix it. Let me walk into the Land of Shadow. Let me cross into Mordor and enter that doomed temple where the Ring was forged. I will not fail a second time." He swallowed. "You were there that day and you told me what to do. Were you not?"

Elrond nodded. "I was there."

"I regret not listening to you that day. I should have trusted your word above my own thoughts and instinct. You've not proven to be wrong in the past or the present."

Elrond sighed. "Tell the council, how long you have known of your past life?"

"I do not remember it. I do not remember being Isildur son of Elendil. All I know is from history books and of what I had been told. So I cannot say I have not doubted because I have in my life leading to this day once or twice doubted who I was. How can I be sure of my identity when I do not remember anything?

"But somehow, Sauron knew who I was. He sent his assassins and armies many times to the battlefields at the foot of the Mountain for the sole hope of murdering me before I came of age. And my uncle, Bilbo Baggins, once told me that I had…I'm not sure what the right word is, but I think 'channeled' fits it best…I had channeled Isildur when Erebor was invaded by Orcs led by the She-Orc captain named Mog after I had first begun to live there.

"But as to how long…since I was a fauntling of five years. In the years of Men, it is equivalent to an older three year old child of men. In those days since, I have studied under different masters in history, culture, and warfare. I have memorized maps and divined the safest paths through the wilderness and into Mordor."

He laid a map out onto the table. "My thought was to travel down the Anduin and shift eastward at Emyn Muil and travel into Dagorlad."

"That route goes straight to the Black Gate!" Boromir interjected. "You would be caught before you dared to enter!"

"I had noticed that," Frodo said calmly. "Which is why I would have to find a way to climb over the Ash Mountains. From there, it is a matter of getting through Mordor's plains."

"Have you an alternate route?" Gandalf asked. Frodo turned to him and shook his head.

"This was the fastest route I could think of."

"Fastest is not necessarily safest," Aragorn said. "You will need a guide."

"And who better than a ranger?" Frodo added. Aragorn bowed his head, returning their smirk. He turned to Galadriel and Celeborn. "If it would please you, my lords, I would bring with me a small company of friends. No task against the Shadow of Sauron should be ventured alone. Legolas Thranduilion, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and Gimli son of Gloin have already pledged to join my quest and were loyal companions thus far."

Celeborn leaned forward. "And who else will join your quest? Will you bring more experienced warriors with you? You and the companions you have named are brave and loyal, but the battles you have seen and participated in are few. You may know how to fight, you know what to do in a situation, but you are far from ready for this venture—"

Galadriel placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked at her. "You may be right, my love," she said. "But it is also true that this quest must be fulfilled by Isildur Reborn and despite his age and experience, he is ready. And there is little time left to wait. The Nazgûl have already attacked him once and nearly killed him. To wait any longer may risk the Ring being lost to our enemies."

Celeborn sighed, squeezing her hand. He looked at Frodo again. "I still think one companion you choose must be a seasoned warrior."

Boromir stood. "I have long battled against the Orcs of Mordor. Gondor is under constant attack by the Enemy and it is by the blood of Gondorians that the lands beyond can have peace. If you require a soldier to go with him then I will go."

Celeborn nodded. Galadriel's lips thinned. "If you insist, Son of Denethor, then go," she said. "But be wary. Once already the Ring had tried to take your mind at this very council. Find the root of this desire. What is it feeding on that festers in your heart? Glory? Duty? Or a father's approval? Once you know, confide in these companions. You will need your kings to hold you accountable."

"Kings?! As in more than one?!"

Gimli cleared his throat. "Aragorn son of Arathorn and Frodo of Erebor are both eligible to the throne of Gondor."

"What claim is this?" Boromir demanded. "Frodo, I know and recognize as Isildur's Heir, but a Man must rule Men. Tell me more of the Ranger's claim!"

"He is Isildur's Heir," Legolas said. "And that makes him heir to the throne of Gondor."

"The choice is yours, Boromir," Galadriel said. "Will you join Frodo's quest?"

Boromir stared at Aragorn for a long time as though he could not fathom what he had been told. Then she shifted his gaze to Frodo. "I will go with you into the Fires of Mount Doom and aid you as much as I am able. I give you my sword."

"I will accompany them as well," Gandalf said. He smiled at them. "If only to keep these five lads in line. I've known all of them since they were young and I cannot believe that their families would condone them heading off into the wilderness against such a powerful foe unaided by someone with more sense and less brawn."

"I resent that," Gimli growled. Frodo approached him and patted his shoulder.

"It could be worse. It might've been your father."

Gimli nodded slowly. "Aye. That would be worse."

#

They would be leaving in two days so to prepare however they may. Frodo reviewed the letter he wrote his uncles, chewing his bottom lip between his teeth. It was short, telling them he was alive.

He didn't think it was necessary to tell them that he almost died. He didn't want to scare Bilbo or infuriate Thorin. So he omitted it. It felt horrid, not telling them the whole truth. But it would be easier, for sure, to simply leave out that he almost died before he had finished. It didn't matter, anyway. He wasn't dead and he would soon be leaving Lorien.

Beyond that, what did they really need to know?

Frodo folded the letter and sent it to be delivered. He went to eat afterwards, massaging his neck. A white image passed by the corner of his eyes and he turned toward it.

_Come with me_, Galadriel's voice echoed. He obeyed, following her down toward a glen. The grass was green and soft beneath his feet. Ivy hung from the trees. A canopy of branches and leaves blocked the sun and made the water shine like sapphire and obsidian. A pool frothed where a fountain joined its stillness, creating ripples. In the center of the glen was a stone pillar and basin hanging from a hook carved into the basin's rim was a silver pitcher.

"You wanted to speak with me, my lady?" Frodo asked.

"I did," she said, picking up the pitcher and filling it with the fountain. "I have something to show you in the mirror."

"When I look, what will I see?" Frodo asked.

Galadriel approached the basin and filled it. "Even the wisest do not now. You may see things that were, things that are, or things that have not yet come to pass." She stepped aside and Frodo approached, peering into the still water.

A land he did not know, but knew all the same with its rolling hills and bright blue sky stared at him. He heard enough stories of the Shire to know his native land if he ever came across it.

The image shifted. Hobbits were chased and slaughtered by an Orc battalion. They were captured, tortured, made into slaves—it shifted again to the lands Frodo had known. People of all kinds fled at the destruction and death Orcs and their dark allies laid on them.

The throne of Gondor lay in ruin.

A flaming eye stared back at him, pulling him in and calling to the Ring. Frodo sighed and stepped away, looking at Galadriel.

"What meaning is there in showing me this? I can tell it is what will happen if I fail. You do not need to drive this home into me, my Lady. I have long known of the future that would await Middle Earth should I fail. That is why failure has never been on option for me."

"You are brave, Frodo Baggins," she said. "But bravery and valor and wisdom is not enough to get you through this trial. I have seen many brave, wise, and valiant Men, Elves, and Dwarves fail their quests before. They faced their enemies alone. You are wise in knowing you must not face them alone, but your companions are not as strong as you would hope they'd be."

"You fear Boromir will try to take the Ring."

"There is a lack of love in his life and in his brother's," she said. "And he will not recognize you or Aragorn as his kings."

"I have no ambition to take that Throne."

"Do not deny who you are."

"I never have."

"You have just done so at this very moment," she said. Frodo clenched his jaw. "Frodo, you _are_ a king of Gondor and given time, Boromir will recognize you as such. At this time, his actions can and will turn the tide if you are not wary of him. He needs to shift his alliance to you, and if you cannot make that happen, this quest will be doomed to fail regardless of your will. Your people—Erebor, Gondor, and the Shire—will suffer if you cannot sway Boromir to pledge his loyalty, fully, to you."

"I cannot force him to swear his allegiance to me."

"You don't have to. He is a reasonable Man and if you get to the root of what plagues his nights, you can help him build a block against the Ring." She knelt down. "I have faith in you, Frodo." She touched his cheek. "I wish you success. May the grace of the Valar be with you."

Frodo lowered his eyes. "Thank you, my lady. But words and well wishes will do nothing for me."


	11. Chapter 11

He blocked Gimli's swing and pushed him back. Gimli swung his axes in an arc and Frodo ducked, aiming Sting for his stomach. Gimli jumped back. Frodo jumped at him. Gimli ducked and tripped him, aiming his ax at Frodo's throat. Frodo groaned.

"Do you yield?"

"Yes," he said.

The ax left his neck and Gimli helped him up. "You're getting hasty."

"I'm tired of waiting," Frodo sighed. "My legs ache with a need to run."

"So I noticed," Gimli said, leaning on his ax. "You should rest as much as you are able to, Frodo. You won't get much chance to after we leave."

"I do not think it is possible for me to truly rest these days. Ever it is calling and ever it is driving me to madness. It whispers to me 'put me on, put me on.'" Frodo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It'll never get easier and the longer we wait…"

Gimli patted his shoulder. "You'll do fine, Lad." Frodo stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And you'll have a tale or two to tell your uncles. You'll do them proud."

Frodo stared at his feet. The braids woven in, decorated in silver clasps. The anklet chains symbolizing his status and accomplishments much like the clasps. Three of his toes bore gold rings. He sat down, running a finger over the designs and jewels he wore.

"Maybe so," he said at last. Frodo looked up at Gimli. "I would think of nothing past what will happen in Mordor, my friend."

"You lack hope, I know. That is why it is my job to provide it. Otherwise you'll fall to despair far sooner than you should."

Frodo smiled. "Then I should be thankful I have you here at least, _Bâhel_," he said, getting up.

"That you should, Laddie," Gimli said, patting his shoulder. "Let's get something to eat, then I'll beat that restlessness out of you before the end."

"Not if I beat you first."

"Cheeky brat."

Frodo grinned at him. "I live to cause grief. Seems it's my lot in life," he said with a shrug. Gimli laughed.

"Then let's cause a little grief for a few pointy-eared, leaf-eating, tree-shaggers. To remember us by, eh?"

#

Cloaks were clasped around their shoulders, held together by silver leaf brooches. Their food stock was resupplied with lembas bread. A length of rope was set in the first boat on Frodo's right. He fixed his cloak to keep it from choking him too much and the company gathered to Galadriel. Once he had joined them, Galadriel called for her maids to hand out tokens.

Frodo didn't see much use for them. He was taught that luck, if anything, was simply a form of favor from the Valar. To him, there was no such thing as coincidence and tokens are all but useless unless, like the beads and braids in his hair, they held value.

She turned to Aragorn first. "To you, Aragorn Heir or Isildur, I give you the Elessar." She pressed a silver brooch in his hand with a green topaz-like stone at its center. The silver was carved to resemble the wings of a bird. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Aragorn bowed his head.

"Thank you, my lady," he said. She turned to Legolas.

"For the prince of the woodland realm," she began, beckoning a maid, "I give you a bow and quiver carved of my people. May it serve you well in dark times."

Legolas lowered his head, murmuring his thanks. She whispered to him as well. Whatever she said made him freeze. She cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead and Aragorn steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Frodo wanted to know what she said.

What if it got in the way of the quest?

Frodo had no use for anyone who would be a liability.

She paused at Gimli. "I'm afraid I have no gift for you. I do not know what to bestow on a Dwarf."

"My lady, I do not need any fancy token you might give," Gimli said. Frodo peered at him. "However, to remember you by, I humbly request a strand of your hair. That is enough."

Frodo cleared his throat. Gimli turned to him. _What about Ara?_ He signed.

_I'll explain later,_ Gimli signed back, cheeks tingeing. Frodo resisted the urge to leer at him, fiddling with his cloak instead.

Galadriel raised her fingers to her head and combed through her hair, pulling loose hairs out, she counted them and handed them to Gimli before kneeling down and whispering to him as well. Frodo wasn't sure how to translate the expression on Gimli's face. It was a mix between joy and confusion.

She moved to Boromir and one of her maids stepped forward. "To Boromir, son of Denethor, I give you this belt. May it remind you of where your heart truly lies and may your strength endure." She handed him a belt of gold before whispering in his ear. He looked at her with shock, then what seemed to be a hint of shame, staring at the belt in his hands.

Galadriel walked to Frodo. "You know what you must do."

"I do. Nothing will make me waver, though I may stumble," he said. Galadriel nodded and two maids approached.

"I give you a belt, as well, of silver. And this," she pulled out a phial from her purse. "It is the light of Earendil. Our most beloved star. May it be a light for you when all others go out." Frodo took the belt and the phial.

"Thank you, my lady."

Galadriel knelt and her lips nearly touched his ear. "Holding onto the past never did anything but ill for anyone," she said. "Forgive, and move on." Frodo could not respond.

"What did you see?"

Galadriel smiled. "There are some things you need to know," she said. "And others, you must come to know when the time has come."

_Trust an Elf to never give a straight answer_, he thought as she moved to Gandalf. "To you, Mithrandir, I have no gift either. What would you request?"

He chuckled. "I already have your friendship, Lady Galadriel. I do not need much else."

"Are you certain?" she asked.

He nodded, so she leaned in and whispered in his ear. Whatever it was she told him, he responded with another nod. She stepped back, surveying the group.

"Go now while there is still light on your path. Be swift and may the Valar look favorably on you all."

#

Three days passed tranquilly. Before the third day ended, they approached the shores of Sarn Gebir. Frodo kept glancing at the pillars still a visible among the trees.

"It's fine craftsmanship, eh?" Gimli said. Frodo shrugged.

"Perhaps," he said. "But I cannot tell."

"You feel nothing when you see them?" Aragorn asked. Frodo shook his head. "I feel awe. I had thought you'd at least feel nostalgic."

"Well I don't," Frodo snapped. The camp paused. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Sit down," Gimli said. "And eat something." Frodo obeyed, head bowed.

"Are you all right?" Legolas asked.

"I am," he said, looking up. "It's just that many people expect me to remember my past life. But I don't. I truly don't. I suppose it's like that for the sake of keeping detached. But I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be harder or easier if I did remember being Isildur."

Gandalf lit his pipe. "I do not think it would be easier for you." he bit down on the lip, inhaling and exhaling. "If you remembered, you might grow attached to the Ring again and jeopardize the mission."

"Or I might be more determined to destroy it." Frodo shrugged. "I don't know." Gimli handed him a loaf of lembas bread.

"That's a bit much, Legolas said.

"Hobbits eat more than Men. Back at the Mountain, I was usually eating about six or seven meals. Most of those were either alone or with Bilbo."

"I know, but a _whole_ one? Are you sure?"

"I'll fee full soon enough," he assured Legolas, taking a bite. Boromir stared at him.

"Where do you fit it all?" he asked. Frodo chewed contemplatively. "It's just that you look so small!"

"Erm…well, Hobbits can be quite energetic when we have to be," he said. "We get hungry far easier and sooner than others and it burns off again. For me, I eat quite a lot because much of my time was spent training and fighting and that's _not_ when I'm in my studies. Plus, we eat a lot more vegetables than Men and Dwarves. We're not _lean_. In fact a lean Hobbit is usually considered ugly or poor in the Shire, or so I've been told. I'm not as soft as my uncle is and he's certainly packed on some weight since we settled in Erebor. Most of my girth comes from muscle, in comparison."

"Having been raised in Erebor, Frodo's more a Dwarf than a Hobbit," Gimli added with a hint of pride and a small bit of teasing.

"But biologically I _am_ a Hobbit. Culturally, I'm a Dwarf. But I've no stone sense and I feel better being outside and gardening."

"That explains why you used to complain about having your lessons inside so much," Gimli muttered.

"Oh, I still _hate_ that," Frodo assured him. "I just learned to keep my mouth shut about it."

"You must have liked Lorien, then," Legolas said. Frodo shook his head.

"I didn't. It was suffocating with all the trees. This, on the other hand," he waved at the open area of their camp, "Is much better by comparison. Even if the river is a bit unnerving."

"Why?"

"Hobbits aren't strong swimmers. I know _how_, but I'm useless in the water. And that's when I'm _not_ gripped by fear of it."

"You _still_ get like that?!" Gimli snapped.

"Yes. I can't help it. My parents' drowned, so it's expected I'd be nervous around open water."

Gimli rolled his eyes and Legolas glowered at him. "You shouldn't mock other people's fears," he snapped.

"Frodo doesn't care."

Frodo nodded. "I'm used to it by now."

"Are you all right in the boats?" Legolas asked.

"I'm fine. I'll admit I get a little antsy, but it's not that bad."

Boromir stood. "I'm going to get more wood for the fire. Save me something to eat." He disappeared in the trees. Frodo shifted to sit on the ground, back supported by the fallen log.

"We're being followed," Legolas said. Frodo closed his eyes.

"Whoever it is, unless they attack, I suggest leaving them be for now," he said.

"I do not think that is wise."

"We are all trained warriors, Legolas. Whoever is following us will not be able to overpower us. Not even individually. Leave them be. All right?"

Legolas sighed. "I'll take first watch." Frodo heard him climb into the trees. Beyond the sound of the wind and the feel of it, the crackling fire, and the river splashing the shores, it was a peaceful night.

* * *

~Khuzul~

Bâhel=friend of all friends, best friend, etc.

~Galadriel's parting words to the fellowship (excluding Frodo)~

Aragorn: You have my blessing, even when you do not have my son's (she means Elrond, and the term "son" is supposed to be short for "son-in-law").

Legolas: Do not despair. He will not be angry with you forever.

Gimli: Your loyalty will be aptly rewarded, do not let him fall.

Boromir: Do not listen to it. Pledge your loyalty to your kings and trust their judgment lest all will fail.

Gandalf: They are young and they are strong, but they are reckless. I fear for them. Will you keep an eye on them as much as you are able?


	12. Chapter 12

Frodo was shaken awake. He reached for Sting.

"Peace, Frodo," Boromir said. Frodo did not let go of his sword, but his grip did lessen around the hilt. "May I have a word with you in private?"

"Aye," Frodo said, standing. He followed Boromir into the tree line. "What is it?"

"I need to know: are you absolutely sure the Ring must be destroyed? It weighs down on you, I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly?"

Frodo grit his teeth. "Boromir, sit down."

"Why?"

"Just do it. We need to talk and I would rather _not_ look up at you when we do." Boromir obeyed, sitting cross legged on the ground. "Now listen to what I say: the Ring _will not_ help Gondor. I have told you it sooner raze the kingdom to the ground than aid it. The Ring will not help you or your people. Boromir it will sooner destroy you then betray Sauron. Why is this so hard for you to comprehend?"

Boromir blinked.

"What is it that makes you pursue what will only seek to destroy you?"

He sighed. "My father asked me to retrieve it if I can. If I am not loyal to him, then where do my loyalties lie? Who else can I put my trust in?"

"Your father is wrong," Frodo said. "Boromir, if your father's approval is more important than saving our world from the Darkness Sauron will bestow on it, then I have no use for you. You will be nothing more than a liability to me and you would sooner jeopardize the quest if you continue this madness. You can go home. _Or_ you can stay, but know this: I will kill you if you try to take the Ring from me. I do not say that because of some obsession it has cast over me, but out of necessity. I cannot give you the Ring. Not when I am not convinced you can be trusted with it."

Boromir is silent. "Then what do I do? I have to look to my people and I ask only for the strength to do so. Are you truly so cold that you will not help my people?"

"I _am_ helping them. When the Ring is destroyed, Sauron will be no more, his lands will be laid to waste, his perversions will be gone and our lands will be safe again. Gondor isn't the only land in danger and you need to stop thinking that it is! I am looking not just to Gondor's protection: but to Mirkwood, Esgaroth, Erebor, Rohan, the Shire—what we are doing now, Boromir is so much bigger than Gondor! If it helps, then pledge your loyalty to me. Swear to me that you will listen to my word above all others, save Aragorn's. Swear it and I will let you stay, and I will trust you."

He could see Boromir's outline in the darkness shift. Boromir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Loyalty to a Halfling—"

"_A Hobbit_," Frodo snarled. "And to your king. Like it or not, Aragorn is the king of Gondor and so am I. Neither he nor I are that keen on it, but it is the truth. The Ring is evil, Boromir. It has to be destroyed. You need to understand and accept that there is no other way. None."

Boromir sighed again. "Can I think on it?"

"Yes." Boromir's face became visible and Frodo furrowed his brow, he turned to his sword, pulling Sting out of its sheath. "Boromir, get your weapons," he ordered. They ran back to camp "Wake up!" He shouted. "Gimli! Aragorn! Wake up!"

"What's going on?" Gimli groaned.

"Orcs! Get up you fools!"

"Where's Gandalf?!" Boromir asked.

Frodo cursed the wizard under his breath brandishing Sting.

"We move into the forest," Aragorn said. "Try to keep them away from the camp." He and Boromir ran into the forest.

"Other than that, have fun?" Frodo asked, a grin spread on his face as he looked at Gimli.

"May the best Dwarf win," Gimli added.

"Oh, you are going down, _rukhsul menu._" Gimli laughed at the insult and they followed the Men. Rustling from above alerted Frodo to Legolas' presence in the trees.

_Find…ling _echoed in the air.

Orcs burst through the trees, rushing at them. Frodo dodged between legs, slitting tendons as he fought, felling his opponents so best to get at their necks and hearts. A flash of bright light, alerted them that Gandalf was still nearby, fighting enemies of his own.

An Orc towered over Frodo, bringing its black, perverse iron blade down on him, Frodo parried, heels digging into the earth. With a shout, he pushed the Orc back and slammed Sting into its thigh. The Orc roared and kicked him.

Frodo slammed into the tree, gasping for air as his body locked. He coughed and gasped for air, struggling to get back to his feet. His ears rang and his vision swam. He felt he was going to throw up. The Orc shrieked. Frodo looked up to see an arrow sticking in its eye. Another one landed in its neck.

He glanced up at the trees, spying Legolas leap from the branch to another tree.

_Find the hling…_

"Frodo!" A strong arm hefted him up. Frodo gasped, and shoved his helper away, vomiting on the ground. "What happened?" Gimli demanded.

"I was tossed. I'm fine. I'll be fine—"

"Find the Halfling!"

Gimli wrapped his arm around Frodo's middle. "Let me go!" Frodo demanded, wriggling against Gimli's grasp. "Gimli, let me go! I can fight!"

"Don't be a fool," he shouted. "Legolas, to Rauros! To the falls!" Gimli ran toward the lights and the forest brightened, ablaze in fire. Boromir and Aragorn fought in tandem, hewing Orcs down by the dozen. An arrow nearly embedded Boromir, but was knocked out of the air by Legolas' own arrow.

Gimli set Frodo down. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I am," Frodo said, despite how queasy he still felt.

"Make for the trees," Gandalf ordered. "Hurry, climb!"

"These aren't the usual rabble of Orcs," Legolas said. "What makes you think they won't find us?" Gandalf ignored him casting a spell of sorts.

"Make for the trees," he repeated. A spell is cast on them. You will be concealed for a time. I will follow. Go!"

"You're not coming?" Boromir asked.

"I will join you shortly. Now _go_! I will not ask again!"

"Gandalf—"

"_Go! Fly you fools!"_

An arrow slammed into Gandalf's shoulder and he stumbled. Frodo ran toward him, but Boromir lifted him in his arms.

"_Gandalf!_"

Gandalf clutched at his shoulder, stumbling back. Another arrow flew at him and he blocked it, losing his footing. He fell, disappearing into the falls.

Frodo felt like ice. His eyes stung. He fought against Boromir as they raced into the forest. "Let me go! Let go! We can't leave him! Let go!" Legolas pulled him out of Boromir's arms and climbed. "No, let go!"

"Frodo, stop," Legolas whispered, holding him close. "That's enough. Stop. There's nothing we can do. He's gone."

"No! There's a chance he's alive! We can get him!"

"Frodo, we lost him."

"No!"

_Smack!_ Frodo silenced, blinking. He raised his hand to his burning cheek and looked at Legolas. "I'm sorry, Frodo," he said. "It's too late. He's gone." Frodo tried to blink back his tears. He bit his lip and hid his face in Legolas' shoulder as his tears overwhelmed him.

_How am I going to tell Bilbo?_

#

They could not risk going down the falls to search. Frodo kept to a fruitless hope that Gandalf may have survived the fall even if the others believed Gandalf was dead. Instead they used the time to come up with a new plan.

"They are looking for Frodo," Gimli said. "That much is certain."

Frodo crossed his arms, staring at the fire. "They are after the Ring. But…did anyone else notice something _odd_ about these Orcs?"

"How do you mean?" Boromir asked.

"The skin is different and they build. Many orcs have attacked Erebor, Mirkwood, and Esgaroth since I came to live there. These Orcs seem slightly different. Their skin is wrong. Same as the way they move. They're almost…they're almost like Men." He closed his eyes. "They're like _Mog_."

"Who?" Aragorn asked.

"Mog was the Orc-Captain who targeted Frodo when it became clear to Mordor that Isildur had been reborn," Legolas said darkly. "She and her army attacked the Shire, forcing Frodo and Bilbo to flee to Erebor for their own protection. She was half-Orc, half-Man: an Uruk-Hai…but even so, it is unlikely Orcs are breeding with Men, especially at such a rate where we would face this many Uruks."

Aragorn dug his dagger into the earth. "What do we do?"

Frodo chewed his lip. "They're looking for me," he said. "Aragorn, how much do you fear the Ring?"

Aragorn furrowed his brow, staring at him. "Too much," he said.

"Good. I'm trusting you with it."

"This is a bad idea," Aragorn said.

"Who else is there?" Frodo asked. "There is no one else I can trust with it save for myself and if they want me, they are probably after the Ring and we need to avoid them getting it." He turned to Gimli. "Can we make a decoy?"

"Maybe. It can't be forged, though."

"Will one of these do?" Boromir asked, pointing at the gold loop holes in his tunic. Frodo leaned forward. He nodded.

"Those would be perfect."

"I'm against this," Legolas said. "We vowed to protect you."

"And I must protect the Ring before I can destroy it," Frodo countered. "Letting it get into the hands of Orcs, especially if they are Uruk-Hai, is the opposite of that. I can and will live through it. We need to know how they came about and who is controlling them."

The fire cracked and embers flew upward.

Gimli squeezed his shoulder. "We'll be right behind you, my lord."

"Frodo," Legolas said. Frodo turned to him. "Be careful."

He smiled and stood. "I will be. I'm going to get some rest. I feel I'll need it. We'll reconvene in the morning and find the Orcs."

"Sleep as well as you can," Gimli said. Frodo thanked him and climbed into his bedroll, trembling.

_I can do this,_ he told himself. _I can do this._

He just wished he could believe it.

* * *

~Khuzdul~

Rukhsul menu=son of an Orc

I know that Gandalf is too awesome to actually be killed by arrows and a fall. Do I really have to say he's not dead? And I have a reason for keeping Boromir alive.


	13. Chapter 13

The Uruks were searching for them. Frodo clutched at the decoy and observed Aragorn. His hands were shaking and he looked slightly pale, but otherwise he gave Frodo a smile. Frodo bit his lip and nodded. _Yavanna and Mahal, please help us_, he prayed, unsheathing Sting and charging out of the enchantment.

"Looking for me?" he shouted, catching the Orcs attention. "Come and get me you mother-fucking piles of shit!"

He shouted running into the trees furthest from the Rauros. Three Orcs nearly caught him, but he dodged their hands. One had its leg cut, the second stabbed, and the third's chest was slit. Frodo jumped over them, racing further north. A fourth Orc slammed into him, driving his head into the dirt and stepping on his wrist with Sting still in his hand.

Sting was kicked out of Frodo's hand and he was bound. Frodo kicked, wriggling to get free. His captor raised his hand and slammed it into his cheek.

#

Frodo woke up to jostling. His hands were bound, looped around a thick, muscled Orc neck. He blinked, vision swimming. He looked around, searching for…

For…

He wasn't sure what he was looking for. How long he'd been out, he doesn't know. He could tell, from the darkening sky, that it was dusk. But that was it.

They stopped. "What is it?" One demanded. "What do you smell?"

"Man-flesh."

Frodo grit his teeth as the pace picked up. He grabbed his Elven brooch between his teeth and spat it onto the ground, watching it be trampled into the earth. He hoped that'd be enough to let his companions know they were on the right track.

#

It is two more days before his captors collapsed and demanded rest from their leader, who complied. Frodo fell to the ground, groaning. He struggled against his binds, trying to loosen them, cursing under his breath. A hand seized his collar and hefted him up.

"What about his legs?" An Orc asked, eyeing Frodo like a juicy slab of meat. Frodo tensed and felt bile rise in his throat. "He doesn't need those…"

_Are they going to eat me? _Frodo thought. The Orc squeezing his neck pulled him back further.

"Stay back, Scum!"

"Just a mouthful! Won't take a moment!"

Frodo reached for his scabbard. Sting was gone and he cursed again.

A sword slit through the air and flesh.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"

Frodo was shoved aside as the Orcs descended on the body of their fallen comrade. He clambored back to his feet and sprinted toward the forest.

"He's getting away!"

"Get the maggot!"

Frodo dodged an outreached hand, jumping over it and slamming his foot into an Orc's nose, seizing a dagger to defend himself with.

A steady pounding on the ground caught his attention and horses road through, their riders slaying the Orcs. With the dagger still in his hand, Frodo raced for the forest line.

The trees creaked and groaned, and the air choked him. He was vaguely reminded of the closeness of Mirkwood and he stopped, hiding behind a tree and cut his bonds on the knife. Frodo leaned back.

_Now what? Stay? Look for the others? Keep heading west?_

"Where are you, you runt!"

Frodo peeked out. An Orc survivor? He grit his teeth and began scaling the tree, digging the knife into the bark for leverage.

"Where are you?! I'm going to rip out your filthy little innards!"

A hand seized Frodo around the waist. He screamed, catching the Orc's attention, but it was followed by a sickening crunch of the Orc being crushed. Frodo squirmed in the giant's hand, demanding to be released.

"Little Orc, _ho-hummm_."

Frodo stilled, looking at the giant. It was a tree that moved. "You're an Ent? Correct?"

"I am, Little Orc."

"I'm—I'm actually more like a Dwarf, Master _Zurmûn_," Frodo said.

"You stabbed me with an Orc blade."

"A _stolen_ Orc blade, Good Master," Frodo said. "A band of Orcs captured me. Where they were taking me, I do not know. I escaped and took their foul weapon for defense. My own sword is missing. Hopefully it is with my friends. As for stabbing you, I humbly apologize, Good Master. I did not know it was an Ent I was trying to climb to escape my enemy, who, I might add, you have stomped. I extend my thanks."

"You say you are a Dwarf. But you carry an Orc blade. Most mysterious. But you are no Dwarf I know. Could be Orc-mischief." He started to squeeze and Frodo gasped for air from the pressure applied to his ribs and abdomen.

"I'm a Hobbit!" Frodo shouted, gasping. "Have you heard of Thorin Oakenshield? His consort is my uncle! I'm a Hobbit! Shire-folk? _Halfling_?!"

"Maybe you are and maybe you aren't. The white wizard will know."

Frodo stared at him. He shook his head. "No! No, not Saruman! You can't trust him!" the Ent dropped him at the feet of a white robed elder. Frodo scrambled to his feet, fists raised—

"Hello, Frodo."

Frodo lowered his hands, letting them fall. "You're alive."

Gandalf chuckled, sitting on a rock. "I will explain all when the others get here. They should be here sooner than you think." He turned to the Ent. "Treebeard, you need not be cautious around him, this is Frodo Baggins of Erebor, nephew to the King's Consort, Bilbo Baggins, who is a dear friend of mine. He is no Orc, even if that _is_ a Morgul blade he carries." Gandalf arched a brow. "Where did you get it? What happened to Sting?"

Frodo told him all that had happened since he fell as much as he knew. Gandalf listened, mouth set in a grim line.

"Frodo, where is the Ring?"

He swallowed and bowed his head. "I left it in Aragorn's care—I know it was foolish! But who else was there to give it to for safekeeping? I can only trust he doesn't let it take advantage of him." Gandalf sighed.

"That is true," he said. "There are worse choices among the company you could have trusted the Ring to. Still, I wish you didn't let it out of your sight."

"The Orcs would have found it if I kept it. It was too great a risk. I could not take it."

Gandalf hummed. "No. You could not. I do not like it, but you did well. It is night and dawn is nigh. Master Treebeard!"

The Ent looked down on them. "Would you be so kind as to take Frodo to your home for a short time? I will seek out the others and bring them here. As for you, Master Baggins, take the opportunity to rest some more."

Frodo sighed. "Have I not rested plenty?"

"You'll wish for _more_ before you're journey's end. Besides, you just escaped a band of Uruk-Hai. Rest and peace are essential, especially to adventurous young Hobbits."

#

_Rest,_ Frodo decided as he waited for Gandalf's return,_ is annoying._ He was antsy, constantly pacing or something more strenuous to tire him out while he waited for the others to arrive.

Frodo growled. _Apart from Gimli, there is no reason on Arda for them to be this slow!_ He groaned and lay on the grass staring at the clear sky that lit the open field of Treebeard's home. It was the only place he knew in the forest that was open and here, he could breathe freely and without hindrance due to close air. _I wonder how things are at home…_

Bilbo knew he was going to leave, but he doubted that made his leaving any easier for him. Or for anyone else. Frodo hoped Thorin hadn't been too hard on Kili. The king was a good uncle, but a hard one as well. He did not take well to trickery of any kind. Bíli would be upset, Dwarka and Fili cross when he returned. And Kili…well, one could never really tell with his younger of the two cousins.

He sighed, closing his eyes. _I want this over with. Soon. I want to be able to go home and rest in my own bed, feel safe again…I don't know what this quest will take from me, but I…accepting you might die and accepting death are two different things. But really, what is there here for me?_

His thoughts turned to Legolas. Frodo laughed dryly. The Elf who cast him aside? He couldn't blame Legolas, truly, when he thought about it. He was a child when they met after all. Having a child moon over you might be a bit wearisome.

"Frodo," Treebeard said. Frodo sat up, opening his eyes. "Your friends have arrived."

"Took them long enough," he whispered, getting to his feet. "Are you taking me to them?"

"Gandalf asked me to," Treebeard said, lifting Frodo up to his shoulder. "There is much to discuss and stories to be told…"

Frodo let him talk and he listened. It was a good distraction. Treebeard led him toward the forest edge where Gandalf had encountered the others. They were shaken and in awe, listening to something Gandalf told them. Treebeard set Frodo down and just as his feet touched the ground, Gimli engulfed him in a bone crushing hug.

"Gimli! Get off!" Frodo shouted, kicking his legs.

"Not on your life, you brat! By Mahal's hammer, what were you thinking?!"

"I'm alive aren't I?" he snapped, trying to pry Gimli off.

"Just accept it, Frodo," Boromir said, "I don't think he's letting go."

"You could help!" Frodo shot at him. Boromir ignored him reaching behind him to pull out Sting. Frodo relaxed, staring at the sword. "Thank you." He turned to Aragorn. "Do you have it?"

Aragorn reached around his neck, taking the necklace off. He hesitated a moment, but handed it back to Frodo. Gimli released him.

"Are you well?"

"A well as can be," Frodo said. "How long exactly has it been since we saw each other last. My count is about five days."

"Off by one," Gimli said. "Why are you off a day?"

"They knocked me out when they caught me," Frodo said nonchalantly. "But that was nearly a week ago now. I swear I'm fine, Gimli. Don't worry about me, _Bâhel_." He turned to Gandalf. "You promised us an explanation when we gathered."

"So I did," Gandalf said, frowning at him. "And you've spent _far_ too much time around Dwarves, as brusque as you are! You're uncle would have a fit."

"Depending on the uncle you're talking about, he might puff up with pride."

"And that uncle needs someone to poke holes in his ego," Gimli muttered. Frodo elbowed him. "What? You're not going to turn me in. You're not Dwarf enough."

"No, far to Hobbity for that, I suppose," Frodo said, sitting down. "Gandalf?"

The wizard bit the lip of his pipe, thinking. "I suppose it is best to begin at the Rauros…"


	14. Chapter 14

_The arrows were morgul make, and far closer to my heart than they ought to have been. I was careless and I paid for that. When I fell down the Falls of Rauros, the shafts broke on the rocks and I spent the night in agony from the poison, clawing for breath. Darkness took me. My pain had vanished. And it seemed as though eternity stretched on…_

_But it seems that my work in this world is not done. I have been sent back until the time my task is done. As for this form, I have become Saruman as he was meant to be—that is where the Orcs were headed: they were created by him at the behest of the Dark Lord Sauron. I am no longer Gandalf the Grey. For simplicity, let it be said that Gandalf is still my name. But I am Gandalf the White._

"The Orcs that ran us down have been allowed to pass from Isengard to where we were," Gandalf said. "But to do so, they must also cross through Rohan and in all my years, I've never known the Horse Masters to be so lenient. Orcs have razed Rohan and I am worried why this is. I can only conclude that something has reached out against it, taken hold of its king."

Frodo clenched his teeth, thinking. His hand curled around the ring beneath his tunic. "I do not like the idea of straying off the path…" he sighed. "But neither can I let the Men of Rohan burn. Riders passed through here the night I came into Mirkwood."

"That was the Rohirrim," Legolas said. "They did not see you…"

"I had already made my escape by then."

"We had worried they accidently killed you in their haste to rid their land of the Orcs," Boromir said. "We are relieved to discover this to be false."

"As am I," Frodo said. He sighed, lowering his hand to grip Sting's hilt instead. "We go to Rohan and to the aid of her King. But after that, we head for Mordor." He turned to Gandalf, "There won't be any further delays?"

"Foreseeable ones, at least," Gandalf promised. "But unexpected delays I cannot account for."

Frodo nodded. He bowed to Gandalf. "This is your desire that we go to Rohan, Wizard. Lead the way."

#

Rohan was a land barren of trees and greenery, the color of wheat gold and dried grass. The sun bore down on them. Frodo felt warmer than he'd like, tugging at his cloak and tunic to try and cool down a little bit. Apart from hot sun and dried grass and the many rocks, the wind was a soft breeze. Frodo wouldn't have minded a heavier gust if it could cool him down. Large gates blocked the city of Edoras from them. It wasn't the stronghold of Erebor and Frodo figured about three ways to invade the city without much effort. He shook the thought away.

_What reason would I have to invade or sack this city?_ He thought. _None._

Gandalf spoke with the gatekeepers in their native tongue for a few minutes before the doors were opened for them. The city was quiet, the people huddled to their homes, watching them warily. "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered.

Frodo agreed. "They're oppressed," he said. "Perhaps. I'm not sure, but it would take a vast amount of fear to make these people act in this way."

They dismounted their steeds, paying the stable hand to lodge and care for them. Frodo looked around, finding several eyes staring at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He ignored the stares. He was used to them. Many stared at him either with curiosity or awe, depending on who was doing to staring.

Neither kind of stare was bad, and he never let it bother him. But the fear? That did bother him. Fear and ignorance drives people to do horrible things and that worried him. He stood beside Gandalf as they ascended the stone steps to the doors of the Hall. On reaching the top step, they were greeted by three guards. Gandalf smiled at them.

"Ah, Hama…"

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you in the King's presence so heavily armed, Gandalf Greyhame," he said, a hint of sorry in his voice, though he stood tall and proud. "By order of Grima Wormtongue."

Frodo squinted at him. _They put their faith in someone who goes by "Wormtongue?" What happened to these people? _Still, he handed Sting to the guard and the other weapons belonging to his peers followed. Even when the very last weapon was discarded, they were still not allowed inside.

"You're staff," Hama said. Gandalf's eyebrows rose.

"Oh?" he looked at the staff, then back at Hama. "You wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick," he said with a measure of implore. Hama nodded and let them in. The halls were dark. Men and women stood on the sides hidden in the darkness of the pillars. They looked like many of the people outside, to Frodo. The guards as well.

At far end of the Hall stood a throne. Sitting in it was an old man, slumped over as though _sitting_ took more energy than it should. Sitting beside him was a pale Man, robed in black. His black hair and eyes stared at them and he whispered something in the King's ear.

"The courtesy of your Hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf said. The Man backed away and the King raised his eyes to Gandalf. Frodo furrowed his brow. Théoden's eyes were vacant.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" the king asked. The man in black patted the king's hand and whispered something else to him before standing. Insulting Gandalf and belittling the fellowship. Frodo wished he had not given up Sting.

"Keep your tongue behind your teeth, Grima!" Gandalf snapped. Wormtongue backed away from him. "I did not come here to dabble in twisted words from a forked tongue." He brandished the staff and Wormtongue snarled.

"I told you to get his staff!"

Men broke through the crowds, attacking them. Frodo dodged a punch, seizing the Man's arm and locking his foot behind a booted ankle. He threw his assailant over his head and to the ground, backing away from the angry hands trying to grab them, and kicking him under the jaw. The Man's head snapped back and he groaned. Gimli jumped onto his back and slammed the head into the ground. The man stilled.

"Are you all right, Frodo?"

"I'm fine," he said.

Gimli nodded and jumped off the unconscious Man to pin Wormtongue down. "I would stay still if I were you," he growled. Frodo turned to Gandalf, who stood before the King, staff aimed at Théoden.

"Uncle!" A woman shouted. Frodo turned to her, seeing Aragorn grab her arm and mumbled something to her. Théoden roared, lunging at Gandalf. Frodo was blinded by a flash of white light. He blinked until his vision returned. Théoden groaned, slumping forward. Gandalf backed away and the woman broke out of Aragorn's arms, racing to the king. She caught him before he fell.

The years melted off Théoden. He still seemed old, but not by much. He blinked as clarity returned. He cupped the woman's cheek, whispering to her before looking around. "Gandalf?"

Gandalf bowed his head. "Breathe the free air again, my friend."

Théoden stood, leaning on his throne. "Dark have been my dreams of late," he said, voice rough from disuse. His hands shook and he stared at them with curiosity in his eyes.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," Gandalf suggested. Théoden ordered for it to be brought and he walked down the steps of his throne to the ground floor.

"What has happened, Gandalf? Why have you come? And your friends—quite a motley crew you bring."

"Ah, yes, they are, I suppose." He introduced them one by one, ending with Frodo. Théoden stared at him as though he was unsure what to make of Frodo.

"You are prince of Erebor?"

"I am, Sire."

"Erebor is a Dwarven kingdom. You are not a Dwarf, though you dress as one."

"I am a Hobbit, Théoden King," Frodo said. "My blood people hail far to the West, but I have spent nearly all my life in Erebor under the tutelage of Balin, Lord of Moria, before he set out to reclaim the mountain. My guardian and uncle is the King's Consort."

"Your _uncle_?"

"I am aware that Men find same-sex relationships poorly, but Dwarves are of a different mind. As are some Elves," Frodo said, hands clasped behind his back.

"My Lord," Hama said, kneeling before Théoden, the hilt of a broadsword pointed toward him. Théoden's fingers shook as he touched the hilt before curling them around the handle and pulled the sword free. He stared at the blade and his eyes shifted toward Gimli. Wormtongue cowered before him, still caught in Gimli's clutches.

"Seize him!" Théoden roared. "Throw him out of my house!" Two guards grabbed Wormtongue and pulled him to his feet, dragging him to the doors and threw him to the ground. He groaned, gasping for air when his back hit the gravel. Théoden descended the stairs, a furious glint in his eyes, his sword still clutched in his hands.

Wormtongue backed away, eyes wide. "I only _ever_ served you, my lord! I swear it!"

"Your leechcraft would have me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

"My lord, I implore you! Send me not from your sight!" Théoden roared, lifting his blade in the air. Wormtongue screamed. Aragorn seized Théoden's arm.

"No, my lord! No!" he shouted. "Enough blood has been spilt on his account." Théoden glared at Aragorn and Wormtongue took the opportunity to escape.

"_Hail Théoden King!_"

Aragorn released his arm and bowed. Frodo followed suit as the people knelt before Théoden. How long had it been since he'd seen the sun? Frodo could not say, but it felt good to have been a part of freeing him from Wormtongue's clutches. Théoden searched the crowd.

"Where is Theodred?" he asked. He turned to the woman. "Eowyn, where is my son?"

Eowyn closed her eyes and bowed her head, biting her lower lip. Théoden ascended the stairs again, hobbling as fast as his legs could go, weak though they were.

#

A mourning song echoed around them that night, candles threatened to blow out in the wind. White flowers fell around the stone grave as the corpse of the prince was laid within. Gandalf stayed with Théoden while the others marched back to Edoras. Boromir stayed with Eowyn in silence, allowing her to grieve.

"I can't imagine what pain he must be going through," Frodo whispered. Legolas looked at him. "I mean, were it the other way around, I think I could help, but then again, perhaps not. My parents died before I had the chance to really know them."

"I do not think there are words to aid the grieved, at least not in the early stages. Give them time," he said. "The King's heart will heal. He is not without heirs, after all." Frodo swallowed, remaining silent. Legolas touched his shoulder. "Are you well, Frodo? Is your wound hurting?"

"No," Frodo said, reaching for the stab wound. "I'm fine. It's cooler than the rest of me, but it doesn't bother me."

"Good," Legolas said, releasing his shoulder. They arrived at the gates and filed inside. Servants led the company to rooms for them. Frodo thanked the servants and they left. He paused outside his door and turned to look at Legolas' room. Inhaling, he approached it and knocked.

The door opened and Legolas looked down at him. "Is there something you need, Frodo?" he asked, kneeling. Frodo sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't understand why you took your anger out on me that day, but I guess…I don't think I can go to Mordor with this anger in my heart. I'm angry almost all the time these days and I've no idea why. When we arrived here, I—" He swallowed. "I had thoughts about taking the city. Ideas of how to do it just…popped into my head. I'd never do it, of course, I've no reason to take Rohan as my own. What use would I have for it? I didn't think anything of it then, but could it be that…that it's the Ring?"

"It's possible," Legolas said. "Do you want to come inside?"

Frodo shook his head. "I want to apologize. I shouldn't have pushed you away for as long as I did. I was hurt and I held onto that hurt, but I don't think holding onto it has been making the quest easier for me to handle. And it's not doing me any good lying to myself anyway. Legolas, I still love you. I just didn't want to believe that I could still love you. I wanted to hate you because of how deeply you broke my heart. But I can't. Legolas, I can't. I love you. Can you forgive me?"

Legolas stared at him, shocked. He pulled Frodo close, pressing their foreheads together. "I have forgiven you a long time ago, _melleth nîn. _I should apologize as well. I have tried many times to do so, but it never seemed right. Can you forgive me too? I was wrong to speak to you like that, Frodo. I was terrified of what I was feeling for you. I'd never act on it at the time because you were still a child, but you've grown up and I can't imagine having never loved you back."

"I forgive you," Frodo whispered, closing his eyes. It felt like a grip around his chest was cut loose and he could breathe again. He laughed, tears welling in his eyes. "I forgive you, Legolas."


	15. Chapter 15

_Fire…So much fire._

_Smoke chocked him, smothering his lungs and burning his throat._

_"There is nothing in the void…"_

_Frodo turned to the voice, voice caught in his throat from the sight. The eye was great and terrible. It seemed to seep through him, seemed to lay everything about him bare and naked._

_"Only death…"_

Frodo bolted upright, fingers tearing at the blankets. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple, wetting his temple, jaw, and neck. His hands shook. He pulled his legs up and hid his face in between his knees. His heart jumped in his chest and his eyes stung.

_Frodo Baggins, stop being so foolish! You've not gotten to the worst part of the journey yet. It was just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. You're not a bairn anymore. Pull yourself together._

He sighed and sought the foot stool he was given to help get into the Man-sized bed. A servant entered to let him know a bath has been readied for him. Frodo thanked him and went to the tub. It was a child's tub, but he wouldn't fault them that as he let the water sooth his tense muscles. He didn't expect Rohan to become such a reprieve and he was going to suck it in, nightmares be _damned_.

After the bath, Frodo dried and dressed, fixed his braids and baubles, strapped Sting around his waist and went to the great hall. Save for Gandalf and Théoden and a trio of servants laying out a bountiful breakfast, the hall was empty. They turned to him and morning greetings were exchanged. Aragorn arrived next, heading outside with is pipe. Then Gimli, who piled a plate high with meat and bread. Boromir arrived next, yawning. Legolas arrived last, wrapped in his cloak and hair in slight disarray. Gimli almost choked on a laugh seeing him. Frodo bit his lip to keep a smile off his own face.

Aragorn, when he came inside laughed. "What happened to you?"

"Couldn't sleep," Legolas said, shoving an elbow into Gimli's ribs. It only made him laugh harder, hiding behind a hand and shoulders hunched. "Might've been better off just staying up."

"I'm sure Lady Eowyn will be kind enough to loan you a spare comb," Boromir teased. Legolas gestured foully at him. Frodo snorted, earning a glare from Legolas. He wisely ducked his head and stuffed an apple slice in his mouth. There was nothing to be done about his smile, unfortunately.

"Speaking of," Boromir turned to Théoden. "Will she be joining us this morning?"

Théoden arched a brow at him. "My niece prefers to dine with her brother or alone."

Boromir's grin faltered. "Oh. I see."

Gimli arched a brow and Frodo tried to stay unnoticeable to Boromir as he sniggered. Legolas ignored them drinking cider and coming his fingers through tangled hair. Frodo sighed and took Legolas' hand away from his head.

"If you're okay with it, I can braid it for you in a way that will keep it from tangling at night."

Gimli coughed, pounding his chest. Gandalf's eyebrows rose up. Legolas stared at him, a faint blush on his cheeks. Frodo released Legolas' hand, hating how warm his face felt.

"Or not—"

"You may," Legolas said.

Gandalf hummed, grinning at them. Frodo didn't know what was going on in Gandalf's head, but whatever it was, he was certain he didn't really want to know. After their fast had been broken, Frodo and Legolas retreated to Frodo's room.

Legolas sat on the floor cross-legged and Frodo dragged the teeth of his comb through Legolas' hair. "I'm afraid I don't know how to weave Elven braids," Frodo mumbled apologetically as he began a three-strand braid above Legolas temple. "I hope you don't mind Dwarven ones."

"I don't mind at all," Legolas replied.

Frodo gave him the braid, asking him to hold it together and began braiding a second lock on the other side. He took the first braid and clasped them together in the back of Legolas' head before making the two small braids into a longer four-strand one down his back. He cleared his throat.

"These two," Frodo said touching the dual three-strand braids. "Are warrior braids. Usually we have one for each weapon we master, so I gave you two. One for the bow and one for the sword. This one," he handed the third to Legolas, "represents your station or class, which is royalty. I'm afraid it emulates my uncle Thorin's. That's all right, is it? If not—"

"No, its fine," Legolas assured him, "Thank you."

"There're two more I'm, uh, going to put in," Frodo said, blushing again.

"Which are?"

"A courting braid," he said. "It…usually goes on the right side of your head in front of the ear and it usually is paired with a braid of intent that is braided on the left side. The courting braid holds the color of your…pursuer's paternal family while the intent braid is the one of his or her maternal family…I, uh, am going to braid them behind your ears though because you'll not want them get them caught in the bow string."

Frodo's fingers trembled as he began the first braid. A (very large) part of it was fear. What if it fell apart again? What if his heart was broken a second time? What if? What if?

_What if?_

The other part was giddiness reminding him that he'd been waiting to braid Legolas' hair for years before he tried to squash every emotion tied to Legolas until there was just a heavy weight of anger and resentment.

He secured it with an emerald bead. The left he clasped with a ruby bead. Frodo's mouth felt tight as he walked around to see how they looked on Legolas.

Trembling fingers or not, they were well made. "Better?" he asked.

"Much. Thank you. Though, if we run into more Elves, they may think Gimli and I are courting."

"We'll just have to correct them, then," Frodo said, frowning. "After all, a Hobbit should be better received than a Dwarf, right?"

Legolas laughed. "Elves do happen to have a fascination for your people. Before I wrote Hobbits off as a legend, I and my friends would go 'Hobbit-hunting.' It wasn't in malice or anything. We were under the impression that if we caught one, a Hobbit would grant us one wish in return for food."

Frodo grinned. "Bilbo told me that Hobbit fauntlings would explore woods around the Shire in search of Elves. Though catching them was never part of it. More interested in Elven magic, I think."

Legolas leaned back on his hands. "Do you wish you knew the Shire?" Frodo's grin died.

"Sometimes. A few years after I started living in the Shire, Bilbo and Thorin left for a year to get Bag End back. Fili and Dwarka ruled as regent at that time. I loathed being left behind. I heard so much about it from Bilbo and I _wanted _to see the Shire so much. I wasn't without friends. There were always Dwarflings around and but I aged faster than them so our friendships deteriorated quickly. And I aged slower than the children of Men, so that also didn't work well. Bilbo always felt bad about that, but it was too dangerous to go to the Shire…But if I didn't live in Erebor, I don't think I'd have known who I am or what I must do. It would have happened anyway, I'm sure of that…"

Legolas took his hands and kissed them. "I am sorry to hear that. But you weren't completely alone, were you?"

"No. Gimli and Kili were apt playmates when I was little. Then they became my combat teachers along with Dwalin and had _far_ too much fun making me land on my arse."

Legolas kissed his hands again. "You're an exceptional warrior because of their dedication." Frodo shrugged. He _was_ pretty good.

Three hard raps on the door drew them away from the bubble growing around them and Boromir entered without admittance. Legolas dropped Frodo's hands.

"You need to get back to the great hall," he said. They followed him.

Eating at the table were two children. A woman knelt before them, talking to them. She stood and turned to Théoden. "They had no warning," she said. "Orcs are crossing through Rohan and Saruman had turned the Wild Men against us. They move through the West Fold—"

"Where's Mama?" the girl asked. The woman hushed her, stroking her hair. Théoden sighed, hiding his face in his hand.

Frodo took a seat by Gimli, leaning on his knees. Legolas leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.

"This is but a taste of the terror Saruman plans to unleash," Gandalf said. "Ride out and meet him. You _must_ fight. Draw him away from your women and children."

"You have two thousand good men riding North as we speak," Aragorn said. "Eomer is loyal to you. He will come back."

"They will be a hundred leagues from here by now!" Théoden shouted. Gandalf opened his mouth. Théoden held up a hand. "I know what you would have me do, but I will _not_ risk further harm to my people. I will _not_ risk open war."

Frodo bristled, straightening. "It's not an option," he said. "They will come and they will fight. Even if you do not strike first, you will _have_ to fight."

"Open war is upon you," Aragorn added. "Whether you would risk it or not."

Théoden sneered. "Last I checked, it was Théoden, not Aragorn, nor Frodo, who is king of Rohan."

"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asked. Théoden sighed.

"We will go to Helm's Deep."

Gandalf's brow darkened. "Théoden, that is _far_ from wise."

"There is nowhere safer."

"You'll be trapped!"

"That is assuming they manage to get in! The fortress has held for generations. I will hold now. My people will go to Helm's Deep and if war comes we have a better chance at defending ourselves _there_ than anywhere else." He sent Hama to give the order and retreated. Gandalf strode out of the hall. Frodo followed with Aragorn.

"Gandalf?" Frodo asked cautiously.

"Gandalf, you know he's only doing what he thinks is best for his people."

Gandalf scoffed. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight! There is no way _out_ of that mountain. Théoden is walking into a trap." They enter the stables and Gandalf mounted his horse. "Frodo, Aragorn, I ride on. At dawn on the fifth day, look to the east."

"Swift speed and the grace of the Valar be with you," Frodo said, stepping aside. Shadowfax raced through the city and out the gates. Frodo sighed. "We best get ready to go."

"Interesting braids you chose for Legolas," Aragorn said nonchalantly. Frodo glared at him, hating how hot his face felt.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well, from the way Gimli was acting, I can guess that there's some sort of significance to hair braiding…and he was muttering under his breath about needing to talk to a pointy-eared tree-shagger."

Frodo groaned. "I shouldn't have left them alone."

"Perhaps not."


End file.

Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Adventure, Drama